


Fortune's Child

by Rowaine



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, BDSM, Drama, Explicit Language, Incest, M/M, Sexual Content, Slash, Threesome, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-02-06
Updated: 2006-05-04
Packaged: 2018-09-30 12:03:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 39,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10162643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rowaine/pseuds/Rowaine
Summary: In the summer before his seventh year, Harry learns a few interesting facts sent from an unknown informer. Eyes opened to a different truth than he'd been taught the previous six years, our 'hero' makes plans of his own to deal with the Dark Lord, the magical world, and himself.





	1. Prologue & Part One

**Author's Note:**

> Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [HP Fandom](http://fanlore.org/wiki/HP_Fandom_\(archive\)), which was closed for health and financial reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [HP Fandom collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hpfandom/profile).

**Fortune's Child : Prologue & Part One**

**Pertinent Story Information** (valid for this post only) **:**

**Rating:** PG, for language and dark thoughts

**Pairing:** none

**Summary:** In the summer before his seventh year, Harry learns a few interesting facts sent from an unknown informer. Eyes opened to a different truth than he'd been taught the previous six years, our 'hero' makes plans of his own to deal with the Dark Lord, the magical world, and himself.

**Disclaimer:** The characters belong to JKR and company. I make no profit off of my pitiful attempts at humoring myself into thinking I can write in her world.

**Author's Note:** A major concept (that won't show up until after the fifth chapter) was borrowed _with permission_ from Petalsoft. Her brilliant story _**What a Witch Needs**_ can be found on adultfan.nexcess.net -- HP/HG/DM triad, with intricate storyline and incredibly hot smut. Give it a read! 

Also, the title of this fic comes from one of Sting's best (IMHO) songs called _A Thousand Years_.

**_Parseltongue_ **   
_Thoughts or emphasis_

~ * ~

**Part Zero - Prologue**

The first day of September was always a chaotic day for Kings Cross Station. Oddly dressed people raced about with cages of strange pets, old-fashioned trunks that occassionally made noises or belched smoke, and even carried broomsticks! Workers who valued their jobs knew to keep quiet and turn a blind eye on the bizarre goings-on -- and if they prayed not to be slotted to work on Platforms 9 and 10, well, no one would blame them for wanting to be well away from the heart of the oddities.

Fortunately for these clueless Muggles, the barrier had the strongest silencing and secrecy charms available, which were renewed twice a year by red-robed members of the Department of Mysteries. 

Platform 9 3/4 saw hundreds of hectic parents, frantic to insure that their children had everything required for yet another year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Many a student attempted to slink back into the shadows as their mother asked for the tenth time if they'd packed enough clean underwear, had they remembered to complete all summer assignments, and please don't forget to wash behind their ears. 

Older students worried for themselves. For both fifth and seventh years, their accumen would be tested at the end of the year by the Ministry-proctored exams: Ordinary Wizarding Levels for fifth years, and Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests for the seventh. Teens of all Houses met to propose future study groups, setting aside many rivalries in their desire to perform high enough to receive top grades. Of course, not all grievances were pushed aside -- as evidenced by several scuffles between Slytherin and Gryffindor.

Deep within the shadows at the farthest end of the Platform, one solitary wizard kept watch of the relatively normal happenings. He sneered at the petty rivalries, ignored (to the best of his ability) the overprotective parents, and mentally chastised himself for bothering to show up at all. What good would it do for him to join the throngs of carefree adolescents for his final year of schooling? He'd hardly learn what he needed to know from Herbology or Divinations. Still, the vast Hogwarts library would be at his disposal... for that alone, he was willing to concede the journey.

Billows of steam puffed out of the lead engine as last call was made by porters up and down the Platform. He took several deep breaths and bided his time. Doors closed on all the cars and wheels began turning lazily in their tracks. Not yet, too many witnesses. Gray smoke momentarily obscured well-wishers as the engine started pulling away from its berth. Now!

With a graceful leap, he landed on the end car of the Hogwarts Express, slipping in amongst the baggage of his fellow students, well away from prying eyes.

~ * ~

**Part One**

Watching from a side corridor, Harry waited until the last of the new first years entered the Great Hall for their Sorting. He almost regretted not being there for that purpose alone, but his itinerary required uninterrupted time away from students and teachers alike.

He knew his path well, could have followed it blind, the long trek up to the Headmaster's tower office. No, not Headmaster, not any longer... Headmistress McGonagall now lead the school, and most likely the Order of the Phoenix as well. Burning anger forced his steps to falter, take several cleansing breaths and think more pleasant thoughts. It wouldn't do for his magic to cause an explosion, at least not before he'd found the information he sought.

Persuading the gargoyle guardian to allow him entrance was no problem -- he was such a frequent visitor to this office that, had the statue been capable of speech, they would easily have been on first name terms. A quick spin up the stairs and he was behind McGonagall's office door, warding it with the heaviest spells he could think of. Harry felt a sharp pang of loss as he looked around at the so-obviously changed room. Gone were the whizzing gizmos and obscure knicknacks, the strange set of furniture that always felt so comforting. He knew, now, that Albus Dumbledore was a manipulative bastard of the worst sort... but that didn't keep him from missing the barmy old coot.

_Student files, student files, where oh where are the student files,_ Harry hummed to himself as he ransacked the Scottish witch's desk. In the magical world, filing systems were far from their Muggle counterparts. In the case of a school's personal files, all relevant information on a single person was kept tightly bound in one scroll, spelled to expand by indexed subject. Footnotes and appendices were often secured in another scroll to preserve confidentiality, or linked to the Infirmary for medical conditions. _Finally! Now let's see what the daft bugger had to say about me._

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

**Guardians:** _Sirius Black, deceased; Ricard and Bronwen Mallory, location Unknown; Vernon and Petunia Dursley._

_****_Correspondence: _Primary copy sent to 4 Privet Drive, with copies to be sent to the following vaults: RBMallory, the Black estate, and the Potter estate._

_****_Known medical conditions, if any: _Treatable malnourishment and correctable nearsightedness. Student arrives for start of each new year with assorted bruises, cuts, contusions, and occasional burn marks and broken bones. School nurse has repeatedly issued requests to remove student from legal guardians and their mistreatment. (_ See Appendix A for filed complaints and assorted medical jargon. _)_

_****_Distinguishing Marks: _Lightning-shaped scar on forehead derived from curse; a collection of 'freckles' located at the base of coccyx; unusually green eyes. (_ See Appendix B, section 2. _)_

_****_Additional Notes: _Magically tested at age one, results barely within standard stratum. (_ See Appendix B, section 1. _) Student's temperment subject to random and drastic 'mood swings', with bursts of spontaneous magic the most common result. As yet, student is not responsible for permenant damage to any sentient._

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

_Permenant damage to sentients? I'd love to show him a bit of spontaneous magic right about now!_

The air crackled heavily with his rage. Harry managed to suck it back in, most of the way, but the height of his anger refused to dissipate. With a quick glance around the room, he spied an ancient tome on a podium; it stood in the same discrete place that Dumbledore's Pensieve was once placed. _The Book of Names_ , created by Hogwarts Founders to locate and identify every child born who possessed enough magic to warrent an invitation to their beloved school. 

Harry's eyes narrowed in concentration as he focused the majority of his overflowing magic on creating a duplicate of the Founders' work. His knees buckled slightly with the outflux of power, but it wasn't enough to prevent an explosion. _What else? I don't want to destroy this office... yet._

Allowing his magic to select a double handful of scrolls, he set about making copies of his own and a few classmates' personal files. One last burst also included the rather large scroll issued by Madame Pomphrey with the numerous petitions she'd made to the Headmaster in his term of office. _How many others did he force to stay in circumstances like mine?_

Before his temper could flare up again from such negative thoughts, he swept through the room putting everything back to rights. He had no quarrel with his former Head of House, and truly wished not to see her as the enemy. A bitter taste filled his mouth as he thought of all the damage her predecessor had caused, and he prayed that she would make every effort to alleviate most of the pain he'd inflicted.

~ * ~

Two halls away from Gryffindor Tower, Harry paused. He had no intention of spending one minute more in the company of his so-called _best friends_ than was necessary, therefore he would need quarters of his own. Someplace quiet, where he could come and go as he pleased. He didn't want to be too far away from his House, however, not with the deadly threats to all the young ones he'd grown to think of as his own family. His own yearmates... could kiss his arse. But the little kids needed someone to watch over them.

He backed up one corridor and turned down a side passage, one rarely used by even the sneakiest of pranksters. A blank section of wall called to him as a likely place for his chamber's entrance. 

Over the summer, he had learned many interesting things about himself, the magical world, and his beloved school. Perhaps the most useful tidbit (to him, at that moment) was that much of the castle worked similarly to the Room of Requirement. One simply had to feel sufficient need for whatever end result they desired, and the castle would do its best to accomodate them.

Harry felt that need so strongly that he didn't even hesitate to visualize what he wanted. A private living area with adequate space for books, research, and relaxation. A one-way floo connection in his fireplace, exit only. A decent-sized bedroom and bath, with both shower and tub. And the tricky part: two doors leading out, one to the Restricted Section of the library, and one leading to the boundary of Hogwarts grounds. He knew that, sometime in the near future, he would need to be free to come and go if he wanted to complete the tasks ahead of him. Granted, he wasn't as positive at the veracity of Dumbledore's instructions anymore, but at least part of them must be completed for Harry to have any sort of peace in the future. 

Opening his eyes, which he barely recalled closing in concentration, Harry was... disappointed. The same bare wall greeted him as before. _What'd I do wrong?_ A quick flush of his cheeks later, he could have smacked himself for forgetting. _Need to think more clearly, Harry._

A simple walnut frame. Canvas slowly filling with lush greens and earthtones. The only sentient a small serpent, its eyes sparkling with intellegence. Minding his own words, Harry placed numerous protections on the frame to prevent any other portrait from moving into his domain. He opened his eyes again to greet his new friend.

**_Hello, young one. By what name shall I call you?_ **

**_That honor is for you to bestow, Maker._ **

**_Hmm, very well. You shall be named Hestia for the Greek goddess of home, hearth, and health. Your job is to secure my chambers from all who seek entry. I don't expect to have many guests, but let's set up a password just in case. If anyone wishes to enter these rooms, they must say_ Sic transit gloria mundi _, then you should alert me to their presence. I'll let you know if they have permission to enter. There might be one or two people, eventually, who have free reign to be in my rooms without me being here, but for now let's stick with this._**

**_It shall be as you demand, Maker._ **

Lightly stroking the tiny snake's diamond-shaped head, Harry whispered the password and entered his chambers for the first time.

An inviting sitting room with abundant shelves, many already filled with copies of the library's most used texts, plump sofas and soft lighting for a late night read, a lit fireplace pushing warmth throughout the room, and a large oak desk greeted him. He hadn't specified colors, hadn't really thought about it, but was pleasantly surprised at the warm browns and deep forest greens. This was a room he could retire to and get away from gossipmongers and prying eyes.

Three doors led out of the common area, two proving to be his requested exits to the library and exterior of the school grounds. The third opened to show a huge bedchamber. Harry almost drooled at the larger-than-king-sized bed with its dark russet satin duvet and heavy hangings. Sleep called to him after the earlier expenditure of energy, but first he wanted a bath.

Flecked sandstone and granite in neutral tones continued in his bathroom, but here and there lay a hint of royal blue or garnet. Masculine and simple, he approved. All the basic plumbing fixtures were accounted for, as well as a separate shower and tub. Glancing inside the stall, he figured he could fit at least four adults inside with no trouble. The bathtub was... a religious experience. Nearly as large as the prefects' bath, his version included hundreds of tiny jets, turning it into a jacuzzi. Dials and taps neatly labelled showed every fragrance for every mood. Harry was thoroughly satisfied. And soon, thoroughly drenched.

After enjoying his first proper bath since last school term, he called a house elf for a light dinner, ate enough to tide him until breakfast, then collapsed into his heaven-sent bed.

~ * ~

Normal nightmares wracked his body, followed by visions of Voldemort and his merry band of buggers torturing Muggles, each other, and random animals near their forest meeting place. Occlumency only went so far to shut out such sights, and rarely relieved him of the pain or mental anguish.

Eventually they ended, leaving Harry in to his much-needed rest. Memories of his summer flickered through his dreams, but as none were overly traumatic he barely twitched in his sleep.

~ * ~

**  
_~Flashback~_  
**

Unlike his peers, Harry Potter could count on one hand the number of happy memories invoked by spending time away from Hogwarts. Of course, there were a few bad memories at his beloved school too, but nowhere near in number as his summers with the Dursleys.

Except... the summer between his sixth and seventh years had been fairly mild. Oh, he'd received the expected 'welcome back, freak' beatings, as well as a long list of chores to finish before summer's end. But then he'd gotten a most pleasant surprise: Vernon was to supervise the opening of a new manufacturing plant for Grunnings, and meant to take his wife and son along for the business trip to Liverpool. That this left Harry alone bothered them not at all; in fact, it positively thrilled the young wizard.

On the eve of his seventeenth birthday, Harry had completed all but two small tasks on his to-do list. The summer sun warm on his back, he stretched and admired his handiwork. Trimmed and freshly planted flowers lined the back yard's boundaries, around the perimeter of the house, and edged the front sidewalk. Wiping the sweat from his face with his discarded t-shirt, he put away his tools and went back inside for a shower.

No sooner had he stepped one foot onto the stairs than the doorbell rang. Hesitantly peeking through the curtains, he breathed a sigh of relief on seeing the postal carrier. Harry threw his smelly shirt back on and answered the second bell.

"I've a package here for Mr. Harry J. Potter. Will you sign for it, sir?"

The teen was aghast. He never, ever received mail at the Dursleys... unless it was by owl post. But this summer had been suspiciously barren of avian deliveries. Under narrowed eyes, he signed his name on the proferred clipboard and warily took charge of the package. He barely heard the postman's half-hearted farewell as he closed and locked the door and headed into the kitchen.

Grabbing a knife from its resting place, he laid the questionable parcel on his aunt's prized cherrywood table. One snip here and a slice there, and the wrapping paper fell away from its contents, revealing...

... A plain brown cardboard box.

Harry's groan of frustration echoed in the empty house. Eyes rolling, he proceded to split the thick layers of tape on each side of the box, letting it slowly open without touching more than the knife's edge. As the sides gave way, he found himself dodging beneath the table, more jumpy than he'd expected to be. Yet even knowing his actions to be silly and childish, his experience in recent years had honed such self-preservation instincts. Still, he chuckled ruefully at himself and peeked up over the edge of the table. Wrapping paper in the way. Another sigh and he crouched up enough to push it away. What he saw nearly made him scream.

Another box.

This one was deepest red heartwood and carefully carved with runes, but it was still a sodding _box_! He wanted more than anything to rip it open, just to alleviate the curiosity burning to be quenched. That action would hardly insure his continued survival, however, so he forced himself to stand and examine the chest before determining his next move.

Other than the exquisite choice of wood -- heartwood slowly turned darker and more brilliantly red as the years passed -- there was little to recommend it as a gift. One foot long, one foot deep, one foot tall. Singularly uninspiring. Its only adornments were the runic symbols framing every inch of its surface, and the pewter hinges and clasp. It didn't even have a real lock. Of course, this was most likely a magical artifact, and therefore would use some charm or curse to safeguard its contents. 

Harry's back began to ache a bit from leaning over the odd little chest. He pulled a chair close to the table and leaned heavily on his elbows. This truly was frustrating. No note, no return address on the wrapping paper, and he was fairly sure that whomever sent it had used a common typesetting spell when they addressed it. That alone led him to believe that the Weasley twins weren't responsible -- what good was a prank if the recipient never learned who had pranked them? Ron and Hermione wouldn't try to keep their identity so hidden either. Oh, how he wished he could cast the simplest of spells to determine if it was benign! 

Head shaking side to side in exasperation, he pushed away from the table, intending to take his previously planned shower. His hand slid across the discarded wrapping paper, right against the edge of the chest. A snap, the clasp flicked open. The tiniest creak, hinges worked to lift up the lid a bare inch. Golden light trickled out of the box, forming a hazy mist across the table. It never quite touched Harry's skin, but came within a hairs' breath, as if tasting his willingness to receive its contents.

The only thing that flashed through his mind for the first full minute was Moody would be so ashamed, but Snape would kill me for being so clumsy.


	2. Part Two

  
Author's notes: This part is the continuation of the flashback begun in the previous chapter, followed by two confrontations with vastly different outcomes.  


* * *

**Fortune's Child : Part Two**

**Pertinent Story Information** (valid for this post only) **:**

**Rating:** PG

**Pairing:** none

**Warning:** Mild or implied character bashing. Impuning one or more Weasleys. Nothing more serious as yet.

**Summary:** This is the continuation of the flashback begun in the previous chapter, followed by two confrontations with vastly different outcomes.

**Disclaimer:** Not mine, never was, never can be. How disappointing.

~ * ~

**Part Two**

_  
**~Flashback to July 30th~**  
_

_A faint golden glow winked out from beneath the polished lid. Harry's eyes followed along the newly-visible seam, but he could find no hint as to what was producing the light. He slowly leaned down toward the discarded paper, hoping to find some clue about who had sent this... whatever it was supposed to be. Of course, his luck refused to work when he wanted it -- no secret messages or inspiring heiroglyphs had miraculously appeared since he'd pushed the mess off the table._

_"Well, bugger me. And now I'm talking to myself. Nothing to it, Harry m'boy. Suck it up and let's see what we've got."_

_With that impromptu pep talk, the teen retrieved his knife and carefully lifted the lid a few inches. More light shone from within, but he still couldn't see the contents. Grumbling under his breath about magical artifacts and paranoid gift givers, Harry raised the lid until it rested upright against its hinges. Almost at once, an audio message began:_

__"Greetings, young Potter." _Harry recognized the voice-masking spell's tinny tones, disappointed that he couldn't distinguish the sender that way._ "I pray you will forgive the necessary precautions placed upon this package; it would do no one good for my identity to be known. 

"Inside this chest you will find two journals, a comprehensive self-updating book, and various instruction guides. Most should offer you no difficulties, however, if you do encounter problems in deciphering any of the proposed information, please feel free to ask. To address a query, simply open the chest's lid and clearly state your question. It might take up to a full day before I can reply, but rest assured that I _will_ send an answer to whatever questions you feel the need to ask... other than my identity. At this time, it would do neither of us any good for that information to be made known. 

"A few interesting facts about this chest: it is charmed so that only you and I may see it; as I've suggested, it may be utilized as a means of communication between us; from time to time, I may send more items through it for your edification; and last, but certainly not least, you might want to look at the inscription -- I believe you'll be most pleased with what you'll find there. 

"Rest assured that I have no designs on harming you, young Potter. Our goals are parallel -- we both desire the erradication of the being once known as Tom Marvelo Riddle. As you become a legal adult tonight at midnight, I am no longer oath-bound to withhold this information from you. I urge you to think over your assumed situation, given all the knowledge you've acquired in the past six years about our world and its history, and read the first dozen journal entries (clearly marked in both books) before making your final decision. I hope to hear of your acceptance within the week. _Tempus fugit_ , Mr. Potter." __

_As the voice trailed off in its unusual farewell, the chest's inner glow dimmed considerably, allowing Harry to read the inscription. His eyes filled with tears, a knot forming around his heart at the simple but loving words:_

_****_

To my dearest James   
on the day of our wedding, 21st May, 1979  
From this life throughout all eternity,  
With you by my side, I have nothing to fear ~  
Your love warms and strengthens me to do what I know is right;  
No power in this world or beyond could shatter the bond between us.  
Forever, your Lily __  


As the evening sun sank below the horizon, Harry's tears flowed down his face. So seldom did he receive any tidbit of information about his mother, other than people likening the color of his eyes to hers... whomever sent this chest had to know him well enough to feel his cravings for something tangible from his mum. His hands reverently stroked along the runes and smooth wood, and a gentle fragrance of honeysuckle tickled his senses. After all these years, could some hint of her presence still be in her wedding gift to James Potter? It's magic, of course it's possible! __

_Emotionally exhausted, Harry held his first seventeenth birthday present close to his heart and staggered upstairs. He didn't bother taking a shower or changing from his gardening clothes before curling into a tight ball on his shabby mattress, holding his dad's chest in a death grip. Long after his breathing had steadied into deep sleep, silver trails continued to roll down his cheeks._

_In her corner of the room, right next to the open window, a snowy owl plumped out her satiny smooth feathers, her head cocked in concern for her master's state of mind. Hedwig watched the young man carefully throughout the night as he tossed and turned and muttered unhappy protests in his sleep. She knew something was amiss with her wizard, but there was no evidence of pain. She scented sadness and regret in his tears, but that was hardly an uncommon occurance of late. Unhappily, she settled back on her perch to monitor the young man's progress until he woke._

_**~End Flashback~** _

~ * ~

Breakfast was every bit as plentiful as any meal over the previous six years at Hogwarts. Harry enjoyed his favorite dishes, even as he tried to ignore the curious glances and blatant stares from practically the entire hall. Few students attempted more than a cursory greeting -- for which he was more than thankful, as his temper had yet to stablize from the previous evening's revelations -- leaving him free to memorize his course schedule. Not that he planned on attending that many classes, but it never hurt to make the occassional appearance just to throw people off track.

Mondays and Thursdays, double Charms with Ravenclaw.   
Tuesdays and Fridays, double Potions with Slytherin (no surprise there).   
Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, Defense Against the Dark Arts with Slytherin.   
Tuesdays and Thursdays, Transfigurations with Ravenclaw.   
Dawn and twilight on Wednesdays, Astronomy with Hufflepuff.   
Mondays and Wednesdays, Herbology with Hufflepuff.   
Tuesdays and Thursdays, Care of Magical Creatures with mixed houses (that spelled trouble, especially with Hagrid's lack of discipline).

A full schedule, but in preparation for NEWTs it did make sense. If you were anyone other than Harry Potter. 

Harry never felt that he was better than his classmates, teachers or the rest of the magical world. Of late, however, he had begun to rethink his priorities a bit. If he was expected to defeat Voldemort, he needed some serious training that -- let's be brutally honest -- he just wasn't going to get in his beloved Hogwarts. Not from the standard curriculum, not from the peace-loving staff, nor under the weak-spined Board of Governers. But happily, that shouldn't prove a problem anymore. Thanks to his penpal, Harry could study whatever material he wished, whenever it suited him, and receive damned fine training if he would but ask.

Loud scraping of wooden benches against stone floors roused the Gryffindor Golden Boy from his thoughts, just in time to join the noisy throng of students out toward their first classes of the year. He briefly debated ditching Charms and Herbology, then decided to attend at least the first week's lessons before going his own way. It wouldn't hurt anything more than his patience, and might put him in his instructors' better graces. Making a mental note to speak with the Headmistress before dinner, Harry tucked himself into the back of the crowd and joined his yearmates in greeting tiny Professor Flitwick.

~ * ~

_I didn't kill anyone. I didn't maim anyone. I didn't even tie their forked tongues into knots around their scrawny throats. And Merlin help me, I really wanted to strangle Hagrid for bringing a baby "aww, aint 'e a cute'un"_ **Manticore** _to class. What was he thinking_?!

Storming down the corridor on his way back to his private rooms, Harry almost missed the two sets of scuffling footsteps following along behind him. He ducked down a side hallway, casting a glue charm along the stones he'd just vacated, and sent up a silencing sphere around the area. So few people ever used this particular passageway that he knew, whoever was so ineptly trying to spy on him, it had to be on purpose.

"Bloody hell, 'Mione! Get this stuff off before he comes back this way."

"Oh really, Ron. It's likely that he laid it here to catch whomever was following him -- which he's done, quite easily -- and has taken measures to insure we don't get away before he has a chance at questioning us."

Harry stepped out of the shadows, facing off his former best friends. With his best sneer in place, he drawled, "Give the woman a prize. As always, Hermione, you are correct. Would you care to explain this? And please bear in mind that I know you too well for that innocent look to work."

Ron glanced guiltily at his girlfriend, his face red and pinched. Rolling her eyes dramatically, the witch sighed loud and long. She really had to rethink her choice of boyfriends.

"Harry, you didn't respond to any letters all summer long. You didn't join everyone at Grimmauld Place last month. And you aren't even staying in Gryffindor Tower with the rest of us. I can appreciate a certain need for thoughtful solitude while you grieve, but this just isn't healthy! We're your best friends, but we can hardly do justice to that if you won't let us in."

Months of irritation threatened to melt away as he heard the sincerity in the witch's words. What she said made little sense, considering that he'd never received a single note from anyone all summer long... but _how_ she spoke went a long ways toward breaking the icy wall Harry had developed between the three of them. But no, he couldn't forgive and forget anymore, not now that he _knew_ better.

"Seventy-two days, Hermione. Seventy-two long, lonely, worried days between the ride to Kings Cross Station and now. Not a single letter came for me the entire time. Not a phone call either, and I know at least _you_ know how to use a telephone. No invitation to Headquarters, no nothing!" His smooth baritone lowered into a frustrated growl, green eyes flashing in the semi-darkness as he hissed, "That's not acting much like _best friends_ , now is it, Hermione? How bout you, Ron? Do _best friends_ normally ignore or avoid each other for more than two months, knowing that one of them is hurting so much?"

The youngest Weasley son turned bright crimson, then paled to a sickly green. He didn't try to make excuses or defend himself -- although that might've had as much to do with the palpable aura of spontaneous magic sparkling the air around the aggitated Boy-Who-Lived. A slight headache formed at the back of his skull, as he stared down at the sticky purple goo holding him in place. The sharpest pinch made him sway unsteadily, just before he fell unconscious on the tacky stones.

Hermione flinched with each hate-filled word, but she couldn't understand why her letters weren't mailed properly. Was there some form of barrier placed around 4 Privet Drive to prevent Muggle mail carriers...? No, that wouldn't work, since the Dursleys had bills and such that arrived just fine. She hadn't given much thought to ringing Harry; the last time she'd tried, that despicable Vernon had beaten him soundly. Was she expected to risk his health just to say hello? Her confusion and deep thought must have been evident on her face, as the irritated wizard's voice broke through her mental debate.

"Maybe you didn't know about it, 'Mione. Ron did, though; it's all in his memories." Scowling down at the lump of red on the floor, Harry supressed the urge to spit at his former mate. "Give me a few days to calm down before trying to talk to me again, alright? And whatever you do, do **not** bring him with you when you approach me! No kidding, Mia, I can't promise not to hurt him right now."

Without waiting for a reply, Harry turned back down the darkened corridor toward his chambers, leaving a confused witch to ponder his words. He would have been most gratified to witness Hermione's not-so-gentle kick to her boyfriend's upper leg, or to hear her berating the redhead all the way back to Gryffindor Tower. Unfortunately, he missed both in his hurry to change out of his school uniform and put away his bookbag before his visit to the Headmistress' office. 

The gargoyle guarding the tower office sprang aside before he had a chance to guess the current password, closing as Harry hopped onto the staircase. No sooner had he raised his fist to knock did the door swing open, eerily similar to his meetings with Dumbledore. He slid inside and quietly shut the door behind him, approaching his former Head of House at her desk.

"Headmistress, do you have a moment or two?" He asked as politely as possible.

Peering over her square-framed spectacles, the Scottish witch inclined her head toward a chair. "It is a bit early in the year for such seriousness on your part, Mr. Potter. Please sit, while I call for tea."

Small talk lasted long enough for a random house elf (not Dobby or Winky, and he hadn't learned many other names) to deliver their tray of refreshments. Tea poured and doctored to taste, they watched each other across their cups, loathe to break the silence. 

He couldn't put it off forever, and regardless of how most people had treated him in the past, Minerva McGonagall had always been strict but fair. "Ma'am, I've no idea how much you know about what Professor Dumbledore and I did last year-"

"-Enough to know how his hand came to be cursed, and quite a bit more, I'd wager," she interrupted before Harry could stammer out an explanation.

"Oh, good then. That last night, he told me... too many things. I'm not sure how many to believe at face value, and how many were just more of his riddles, but he set me a task for this year." Looking up at the piercing hazel eyes that could see through mischief-makers of any age, Harry sighed and decided to be as honest as possible to this straightforward lady. "I'm probably going to be missing quite a bit of class, maybe gone for days at a time off school grounds, and will likely need to spend quality time in the Restricted Section. With your permission, I hope. Without, if necessary. Professor, I hate what's going on, but someone has to do it, and according to Professor Dumbledore that someone is me."

For several long minutes, Harry sat beneath the too-perceptive stare of one of the few women he truly respected. He certainly couldn't tell her everything he'd likely have to do, but he had tried to lay out all the basic information to allow her to make a solid decision. Even so, it almost felt as if he was threatening her, or using extortion, or something equally vile. He couldn't back down, and his nerves made him want to pace the room. Shifting his center of balance forward, Harry's need to _move_ was interrupted as she finally responded.

"Very well, Harry." Her use of his given name startled him almost as much as the warmth in her voice. "Oh come now, you are an adult now, surely we can be less formal within these walls. Naturally, you may call me Minerva if you so choose." A sly twinkle caught his attention and momentarily unnerved the young man. "Along with the title came various methods of knowledge, Harry. I could never presume to take Albus' place in your life, or in leading the Order. However, someone must carry the information he left behind. As his successor, it falls to me to insure that you have whatever you need to fulfill your mission." Her voice modulated into one of regret, "It pains me greatly, knowing that you must be placed into even more danger, Harry. And with the rift between you and your friends... please know that I shall always be available for you, whatever the reason."

Standing from her comfortable chair, McGonagall rounded the desk and held out her hand to one of her favorite students. Harry took the proferred aid, but before he could get a solid footing found himself embraced in warm, maternal comfort. Some painfully tight twinge in his chest loosened as he allowed the hug to continue.

"Dear boy, never believe that you are alone. You are like a grandson to me, just as darling Lily was the daughter of my heart. And as your mother before you, Harry, it has nothing to do with your heritage. Whatever you go to face, please remember that you may always come to me... for any reason, or none at all."

His hard-won paranoia screamed at Harry to question why his former Head of House had never been so personable before now, why she was suddenly so tolerant of the rule-breaking he had all but warned her must take place. Brutally shoving that whiny little voice to the deepest part of his brain, Harry indulged his inner child, so long starved for affection, and buried his head against Minerva's chest.

Whispering in a soft lilting voice, the witch answered his unspoken concerns, "We each have our roles to play in this war, my boy. When I accepted the position of Headmistress, many of my former mannerisms were no longer necessary, such as the stern disciplinarian who rarely expressed the gentler emotions. And now that Albus is no longer here to dictate such things, I can indulge myself in the occassional hug. If you don't mind...?"

"Not at all, it's just... no one's ever..." To his embarassment, Harry's voice came out sounding like a small child, begging to be held after a scary movie.

"Shhh, that's something we shall have to remedy, isn't it?"

One hour earlier, Harry had been ready to hex his former friends into oblivion. Half an hour ago, he could barely hold still for all his nervousness. To find himself so comfortably enfolded in a _motherly_ hug after all these years of needing the simplest touch of kindness... A single tear slowly wound its way down his cheek, dampening the fine watered silk of the Headmistress' robe. Neither mentioned it.

~ * ~

Harry hardly remembered the journey back to his chambers. Lost in an oddly heavy euphoria from his first experience with such tender, maternal caring, he was forced to reprimand himself several times to check for prying eyes and would-be gossips. As the portrait closed behind him, Harry let out an exhausted sigh and flung himself onto the sofa.

Dinner was undoubtedly underway already, but he wasn't really that hungry. Still in a partial daze, he called Dobby to request a light meal be prepared while he took a shower. Only after the pounding hot water brought his mind back to present did he realize that he'd not approached the Headmistress -- who asked to be called by her first name in private! -- about his student files. 

Refreshed and clear-headed, Harry stepped back into his common room to find a modest platter of sandwiches and soup ready for him. He collected the damning scrolls to study as he ate, and had to forcibly remind himself to calm down more than once. Calling a clean piece of parchment to him, he began making notes of questions to ask on his next interview with Minerva.

_Who are Ricard and Bronwen Mallory? Does anyone know how to find them? What relation, if any, are they to me? Why were the Dursleys given custody over me instead of the Mallorys?_

_How often was someone sent to check at 4 Privet Drive? Did they bother to go inside, talk with the Dursleys, check on my health? By whose orders?_

_As malnourishment and various (but ever-present) injuries were noted each year, why was treatment not allowed? Isn't there a way to permenantly correct eyesight?_

_Curse-related night terrors... doesn't just infer the connection with LV, does it? If not, why was the curse not lifted? What justification is there to leave such in place?_

_On a less serious note, why is my eye color considered 'unnatural'? My mother's eyes were the same color... weren't they?_

_Explain 'magical stratum' and the measurement apparati used._

_In the Muggle world, it is possible for a juvenile to 'divorce' their guardians after a certain age. Would anyone stand in my way if I were to petition to be emancipated from the Dursleys? If so, for what reason? (The so-called blood protection is a myth since LV now shares my blood.)_

With the last quill stroke, Harry reread his list, satisfied that the most obvious questions were listed. He could always add to the list at a later time, but this covered the primary concerns over his student files. How was he to broach the subject with Minerva without her knowing that he'd broken into her office? That would require more thought, but not tonight. 

Draining the last of his juice, Harry carefully folded his list and placed it in his mother's special bag, then tidied up a bit before heading to bed. It was early yet, but after such an emotional evening, he was beyond tired.

Scrambled pieces of thoughts flittered through his mind as his body relaxed into the mattress. If Ron knew that none of the summer's correspondence had reached him, then most likely the rest of the Weasley clan knew as well. Ron hadn't told Hermione -- and boy was she going to explode when she found out. From what little time he'd spent with his classmates, it was fairly obvious which of the Gryffindors were guilty from the ones who refused to meet his eyes. But what of the other Order members? Remus and Tonks? Moody even? They were supposed to check on him during the summer, weren't they? More questions to add, but in the morning.

Even the best of men must eventually lower their guard enough to rest themselves. Harry didn't consider himself to be in that catagory, but he knew he needed sleep. Allowing his eyes to close and breath to slow, he dozed off almost immediately into dreams.


	3. Part Three

  
Author's notes: Wet dreams and flashbacks and psy-meds, oh my!  


* * *

**Fortune's Child: Part Three**

**Pertinent Story Information** (valid for this post only) **:**

**Rating:** R-ish for naughty dreams

**Pairing:** Harry/random female

**Warning:** *gasp* I did a het sorta-sexy scene *faint*.

**Summary:** Wet dreams and flashbacks and psy-meds, oh my. 

**Disclaimer:** Who am I trying to fool? Nothing's mine cept the odd ramblings of my personal fantasies.

~ * ~

**Part Three**

_Long sweet-smelling hair lightly tickled his chest, urging his nipples into hardened peaks. Warm puffs of air sent chills down his stomach as soft lips uttered words of passion across his navel and down the line of dark hair toward his groin. He'd never been so hard before, no matter how many hours he spent experimenting with his own pleasure. Smooth fingers stroked the sensitive skin of his inner thighs on an upstroke, lightly dragging blunt-cut nails as they moved back down toward his knees. The tiniest tip of a moist tongue flicked a clear droplet of precome from the head of his cock, forcing a surprised moan from low in his throat. Before he could voice a request or complaint or his own name, two nicely plump thighs surrounded his head, placing a most delightful mouthful within easy reach. His tongue slithered out to taste the steamy delicacy, pulling a gasp from his lover. Placing one hand on each of her rounded buttocks, his fingers pulled open the dripping labia to allow him full access to his target. With each swipe of his tongue against her clit, snug lips enfolded his erection. With each dive into her hot core, hollowed cheeks delivered heavenly suction. A wondrous cycle of give and take, each offering and receiving pleasure... so incredible that it had to end, explosively. His moistened fingers dived in, two up her cunt, one wriggling into her anus. She retaliated by rolling his sac with one hand... while the other mimicked his rear approach. So stunned/fascinated/electrified/horrified/aroused by this maneuver, he erupted down her sweet throat with a roar that vibrated across her clit in just the right way. Both bodies melted in post-orgasmic bliss for several long moments before she slithered up his chest to meet at last, lip to lip. He couldn't force his eyes to open, so pleasantly lethargic was he from the incredible experience they'd just shared. If he could only look at her face, memorize the satiated expression he'd put there..._

~ * ~

"Dobby is so very sorry, Harry Potter, sir! Mistress McGonagall sent Dobby to fetch Harry Potter. Dobby hates to wake Harry Potter when he's sleeping so well, but Mistress McGonagall wants Harry Potter _now_ , please sir!"

Muttering extreme deprecations about catty old witches, Harry opened bleary green eyes to focus on the hyperactive elf. "Dobby, don't hurt yerself. Timezit?"

"Just gone seven, Harry Potter. Oh, Dobby is a bad elf, no matter what he does!"

"Dobby, stop. Went to bed early, slept hard, not a problem. You bring strong tea or coffee?"

The diminuitive being bounced cheerily into the common room, bringing back a tray with both requested beverages and loads of sugar-coated breakfast food. Silently placing it on the Gryffindor's bed, he turned big hopeful eyes to his hero.

"This' great, Dobs. Can'ya get me some clothes out while I wake up?" 

Even before the anticipated agreement, Harry dumped a more-than-generous portion of sugar and cream into a coffee cup and carefully attached his lips to the rim. In two heartbeats the cup held little more than a few dregs and some undissolved syrup. Not feeling coordinated enough to pour another cup, he moved on to the tea and repeated the process. Licking his lips of their sugar-coated goodness, Harry spied Dobby standing shyly in the corner.

"Thanks a ton, Dobby. I'll be awake in a minute. Could you pour another cup of each while I try to get dressed?"

The best way to keep the little house elf from babbling and banging his head on things was to keep him occupied in tasks simple enough to not be misinterpreted. Which was about all Harry's brain could produce at the moment anyway, so it worked out just fine.

With a bit of help from elvish hands, Harry was dressed before his second cup of coffee was drained. He was ready to beg a third refill when Dobby offered a truly ugly mug, explaining that it might not be pretty, but it would refill to Harry's taste up to twelve hours straight. If he'd never appreciated the elf's 'help' before, he could happily kiss his little green friend.

Legs only a bit unsteady, Harry finally made his way to the Headmistress' tower. Gargoyle and staircase quickly moved to his benefit, and he staggered into the room and his prefered chair with eyes barely open. Mumbling a 'sorry' and 'g'mornin', he went back to sucking caffeine as quickly as he could without burning his tongue too much.

"Well, I suppose it would do little good to offer you a seat, now would it, Mr. Potter?"

His befuddled brain wasn't awake enough to catch the dry humor behind the witch's words. "Sorry!" He practically threw himself out of the chair, sloshing a mouthful of hot coffee onto the beautiful antique carpet. "Oh gods, I'm so sorry. Please don't be mad! I promise to clean it up!"

Before her very eyes, Minerva's surrogate grandson fell into a subservient position that she'd only ever seen with house elves who awaited punishment. Over and over, Harry muttered apologies and begged forgiveness, begged more not to be hurt too badly, not to let the neighbors see it. Gently taking his mug and placing it a safe distance away from the prostrate young man, she crouched down beside him and pulled the trembling body into her arms. When he flinched even harder and began struggling, her heart went cold with fear.

"Oh Harry, my dear child, what did they do to you?"

In no state of mind to hear anything beyond the brutal flashbacks of his Muggle relatives' abuse, Harry could do nothing but huddle inside himself and try to submit to whatever his tormentor wished to do to him.

"It's earlier than I'd hoped for this meeting, but it seems we have no choice," tone soft and reassuring, Minerva spoke in a low voice as she summoned an elf to retrieve her latest guest. "Now you just try to relax, Harry. No matter what, you are perfectly safe here. I'd let nothing hurt you, dear child, you do know that? No, of course you don't. Not after years of learning otherwise. And there's precious little we can do about it at this late point." Talking mainly to herself, whatever thoughts came to mind went immediately to her lips, "It's a wonder you aren't turning into another Tom Riddle, what with the way you've been treated." Minerva nearly dropped her beloved burden when she realized what she'd said. "Oh Harry, dear, I didn't mean that at all! You're nothing like him."

On and on she went, trying to reassure the trembling young man as they waited for whomever the Headmistress had called to join them. Harry heard less than half of what was said, but slowly he worked his way back from hysteria. Just in time to see the staircase spiral up with a black-robed wizard.

"Ah Severus, thank the gods you're here! It's worse than we thought..."

~ * ~

Locked in memory/nightmare, Harry failed to recognize the name of his 'rescuer'. One minute he was caught in a loop of 'won't do it again, sorry, just a useless freak', and the next his mind was no longer an island of misery. No longer alone to suffer. Who wasn't as important as the relief of sharing and unburdening his fears with a sympathetic being.

"Harry, it's not real, they're not here. Just breathe and relax, you have to remember to breathe!" Firm hands shifted him from the soft warmth into a strong set of arms, solid and secure. "You're at Hogwarts, remember? Those sorry Muggles are far away, they can't hurt you here." Rhythmic massaging to his back and shoulders, hands and fingers capable of miracles keeping the terror from swallowing him whole. 

"Minnie, in my outer robe's left front pocket is a vial of Calming Draught. Please collect it for me?" Such a soothing voice! Like chocolate-flavored velvet petting him as if he were a kitten, held and cuddled and cared for. "There we go. Harry, I need you to open your mouth and swallow a bit of this. We'll get you out of your nightmare in short order." 

Peppermint and lemongrass, chamomile and rosehips. He recognized the flavors, and knew he should remember what they meant, but his mind was a slippery thing. Comfort and warmth and no pain, all else could be ignored. 

"He's calming down, but not coming back to us. Minnie, you might want to leave the room for a bit. I'm afraid you will not like what is about to happen."

As long as those hands kept stroking his back, he couldn't care less. Let Uncle Vernon do whatever he wanted, if it meant Harry could keep this attention. He'd even pretend to enjoy it.

"Severus, are you sure...?"

"Minerva, you really should leave. Now." The sound of a door closing distantly registered in his brain, but what did it matter?

"Harry, we've got to bring you back now. Your mind is caught in some safe place, but it's unnecessary here. We need you to rejoin the present, the living."

"Mmhmm."

The chest beneath his cheek rumbled with a chuckle. "Well, that's something, I suppose. Do I need to... relieve you of whatever memories have caused this episode?"

"Mrphl mphga."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Potter, but I do not speak that particular language." Another delicious chuckle. He could happily become addicted to that sound/sensation. "This is your last chance, Harry. If you are capable of returning to us without my assistance, you must tell me now. Otherwise, I'll be joining you in that mixed up mess of adolescent neuropathy you call a brain."

"Mmm, sounds good." And yes, he would happily admit to snuggling into the so-strong arms that squeezed just a bit in response. 

Severus sighed out a long breath. He truly did not want to do this to the boy, but they were left with little choice. "For what I am about to do, may the gods forgive me." A final stroke to the young man's shaggy hair, then, " _Leglimens!_ "

~ * ~

Minerva paced in front of her guardian gargoyle, at turns nervous and angry, worried and terrified. She had full confidence that Severus could bring the lad back to himself, but at what cost? Their history was so frought with the most negative emotions... But no, she had to have faith in her old friend. If Poppy was the best medical witch in her field, then Severus was her equivelant in healing the psyche. Mind and soul, heart and emotions. How truly ironic that someone with the reputation for being a cold-hearted bastard was the foremost psychiatric healer. Of course, few people knew about that talent -- it would be most dangerous for word to spread that Severus Snape was less than the Dark wizard he appeared to be.

A scream interrupted her ramblings, quickly wiping the small smile off her face. Two steps brought her back to the guardian, but it refused her entrance. How dare it! Keeping her out of her own office! Sounds of a small scuffle drifted down to her, then racking sobs of the mortally broken-hearted. Oh, to get her hands on those damnedable Muggles! And Albus as well. He knew about this, made careful notes even, and did nothing. Time and again, sending that poor boy back to his tormentors.

Working herself up to a fine temper, Minerva almost jumped out of her skin when a tiny hand tugged on her skirts. "Mistress Headmistress, Professor Sev says to have breakfast in the Great Hall and act normal. Professor Sev says he takes Harry Potter somewhere safe and quiet and will talk to you later." Message delivered, the house elf popped back to the kitchens.

To say that Minerva McGonagall was displeased to be dismissed from her own office was putting it mildly. She made a mental list of terrifying things to say (and do) to her old friend as soon as her morning duties were completed. Of course, the rational part of her brain insisted that she admit that, even if she wanted to do some serious damage to the Slytherin, if he could save Harry from himself she would forgive practically anything.

~ * ~

_Rolling blackness threatening to suck him under, suffocating and blinding and keeping his body from defending itself. Complete helplessness, futility, the knowledge that nothing was ever good enough. Oh, he recognized those feelings. Recognized them, and promptly stomped out the flame of hopeless anguish. In their place, he pushed warmth and honest respect, the promise of friendship, a vow to always be there._

How many years had it been since Bronwen had taught him this technique? Taught by example, drawing out and squashing the very same feelings of inadequacy, of self-hatred. And damn her Celtic hide, she should be the one coping with this now! Only the cagey little wench had disappeared more than a dozen years ago with her husband, with Albus being their Secret Keeper. By now, they're bound to have a handful of brats, running around, screaming in Gaelic and cursing in Portugese. 

_Harry, you've got to come back now._

Severus snickered aloud as he heard the reply come from what sounded to be the inside of a conch. It almost figured that the brat's brain resembled a wind tunnel.

_not safe never safe gotta be small if im small they cant find me crawl in with the spiders maybe i can name them have friends but then dudley will step on them like he does everything else im small dont take up much space dont hurt dont make a sound keep clean and quiet and never ever ever tell anyone or it gets worse so much worse so much pain am i that bad stupid stupid stupid STUPID little freak cant do anything right just shut up and take it like the whore you are all youll ever be good for a pair of holes in some dirty alley no one cares what your name is just some freak should have that tattooed on your arse that and a price list_

Too far! He grimaced as his teeth drew blood from his lower lip. Must catch him before he drags me in with him.

_Harry! You aren't with the Dursleys anymore. You'll never have to see them again, nor will you want to see what remains of them when I'm through dealing out a touch of justice. Can you find me? I'm the one waving a bright golden flag..._

If he'd learned nothing else in his training, he had definitely surpassed all expectations on transferring positive imagery to his patients. Praying to gods he'd long ignored, Severus begged for it to work on this traumatized young man.

A nibble, a quick tug on the line, and then nothing. Severus waited with as much patience as he could muster, and was rewarded with a second nibble. He actually approved of the Potter boy testing the waters before latching on. True, such actions represented a paranoid mind, anti-social in the extreme, but it was far better for this particular wizard to not trust just anyone dabbling in his mind.

_no vernon no pain for me coming for me coming with you away never back promisepromisePROMISE?!_

Yes, Albus should be rotting in the lowest level of Hell for this. Abruptly switching away from mindspeak, Severus resumed the gentle stroking to unruly hair. "Yes, I promise. You will never have to see those despicable people again. You may even assist me in thinking up a truly appropriate punishment for them, if you so desire. Come home, Harry Potter. I shall always keep you safe."

Only after the young man's breathing picked up, his heart rate returning to normal, did Severus become aware of a ringing in his ears. Had they been so loud? One of the problems inherent with this type of therapy was that it relied on shutting down much of the patient's sensory perception. And much of the therapist's as well. Oh hell, that meant Minerva had heard... Groaning at the thought of an irate witch on his hands, he almost missed hazy green eyes blink open.

"Welcome back, Harry."

"S-s-s-snape?!"


	4. Part Four

  
Author's notes: A Calming Draught can't fix everything, but sometimes...  


* * *

**Fortune's Child: Part Four**

**Pertinent Story Information** (valid for this post only) **:**

**Rating:** R-ish again

**Pairing:** Harry/male

**Warning:** This is _**NOT**_ a happy chapter, at least to start. Enter slashy dream sequence.

**Summary:** A Calming Draught doesn't fix everything, but sometimes...

**Disclaimer:** Can't compete. There's no way I'd be able to play in the same league as the Goddess of HPgoodness :(

~ * ~

**Part Four**

_Darkness he knew, familiar and bleak, but familiar meant predictable. But he was always alone in the darkness. Until now. Who was this brave person to come in after him? Brave, or after something... The voice wasn't new, but it wasn't harsh like before (before what?), so maybe this was a good sort of change?_

_Whoever it was hadn't taken away those wonderful arms, holding him and rocking him and making him feel so good. It wouldn't last, of course, but he could enjoy it now and horde the memory for a good long time. Soft rumble of sound under his ear, nice voice, smooth and rich, familiar? Not yelling or calling him names. What does he/she/they want? Everyone wants something. Wonder how much I'm worth today. Never tells me, doesn't want me to try on my own. Doesn't want me to get away. Guess my arse must be worth enough to put up with the abnormal things._

_Abnormal... this voice isn't normally so... quiet, gentle. Should know who it is, doesn't matter though. Safe here, warm too. Don't let go yet, please? I'll be good, do whatever you want, won't scream or cry or bleed. Unless that's what it takes to keep these arms around me? Hope they'll tell me the rules to the game this time._

_Reassurances he'd heard given to others but never received, his way? Doesn't make sense. But the voice sounds so sincere. Might be a trap, like before. Don't think so... Can't tell. Shouldn't trust this one? Always saves me, even when he yells and screams. Pretty promises of no Vernon, no Dudley. Can't be true. Always have to go back, pull my weight. Pull your weight by pulling off your trousers, boy, only thing you'll ever be good for, just a cheap whore like your mum. NOOoooooooooo!!!_

_Golden flag means the end, safety, forever? PromisepromisePROMISE?! Still might be a trap. Vernon's not smart enough for this kind of trap though. Might've hired someone to trick me? Can't believe he'd even think to do that. Promised, he promised! Wrap both arms and hold on tight. Can't swim, but maybe he'll teach me..._

"Welcome back, Harry."

"S-s-s-snape?!"

~ * ~

Whatever else he might have expected, to have Harry Bloody Potter faint in his arms was definitely not on the list. Severus sighed deeply, full of hard-done-by, eyerolling self-pity. Not that he truly blamed the boy. Had Minerva gotten around to explaining about the required public personas? If not, the upcoming discussion could prove to be tedious at best, violent at worst.

Oddly enough, he did not want to relinquish the young man's body to the couch. Such an impersonal way to wake after an ordeal. That Severus enjoyed the companionable warmth of shared body heat was neither here nor there. He would continue to hold Harry until the teen came back to himself. However long that took.

~ * ~

_Shoulder length hair, smelling faintly of herbs and wood fires, brushed across his chest, perking his nipples into hard tips. Warm puffs of air sent chills down his stomach as firm lips and slightly rough pinpricks of hair moved across his navel and down the line of dark hair toward his groin. He'd never been so hard before, no matter how many hours he spent experimenting with his own pleasure... or the rather vivid nightly dreams he'd encountered. Calloused fingers stroked the sensitive skin of his inner thighs on an upstroke, lightly dragging short nails as they moved back down toward his knees. The tiniest tip of a moist tongue flicked a clear droplet of precome from the head of his cock, forcing a surprised moan from low in his throat. Before he could voice a request or complaint, or his own name, two lean muscular thighs surrounded his head, placing a thick length within easy reach. His tongue slithered out to taste the spongy flesh, pulling a growl from his lover. Placing one hand on each of his tight buttocks, his fingers fondled the hanging testes to allow him full access to his target. With each swipe of his tongue against his lover's erection, snug lips drew his cock deeper inside. With each dip of his tongue into the slit, hollowed cheeks delivered heavenly suction. A wondrous cycle of give and take, each knowing just how to pleasure the other... so incredible that it had to end. His moistened fingers slithered toward the winking hole, insinuating itself into that tight orifice and lightly scraping the bundle of nerves within. His lover mirrored his actions, dragging a triumphant cry of arousal up around the beautiful prick in his mouth. Each wave of ecstacy caused him to groan or pant or growl, vibrating the thick head of his lover's cock and causing a similar reaction. Over and over again until both exploded in a geyser of white cream that coated their throats. Melting together in post-orgasmic bliss, two flat chests fit snug side by side, their lips met at last. He could taste his own come on his lover's lips, and he hoped to initiate another round..._

~ * ~

"Harry, you really need to wake up now. I see Dobby has loaned you an ever-full coffee mug. Perhaps you'll allow me to take a sip, hmm? If you're anything at all like most coffee addicts, you'll not share under pain of death or dismemberment."

Blast! It wasn't working. Nothing he'd tried seemed to catch the young man's attention for more than a second at a time. It was beyond frustrating, to say the least.

And then he heard it. A moan, soft and subvocal, and definitely sexual in nature. Wonders never cease. After his emotional breakdown and psychotic flashback, the first thing Harry's mind wants to do is have a wet dream. Of course, if Severus was any sort of gentleman, he would not pay attention to this. He definitely would not stroke across the boy's chest, nor lightly caress his inner thighs. And he wasn't, not really. So he might've been thinking it awfully hard, he most certainly was not making inappropriate advances toward the just-barely-legal Golden Boy. He'd rather not have to explain to Minerva how he had fondled the seventh year _student_ he was supposed to be reviving from a traumatic episode. 

Regardless of the foul rumors surrounding him, Severus Snape was an honorable man. His own blend of honor, granted, but honorable nonetheless.

Once again watching as those brilliantly green eyes slitted open, he watched as Harry's world came back into focus. Watched, sadly, as the young man struggled to free himself from the confines of his most cruel teacher's arms. Of course, how could he have forgotten.

"Harry, keep calm. You are safe here, no one can harm you."

Those eyes that could so easily hypnotize blinked in disbelief. "Uh sir, no offense, but why were you-"

"-holding you in my lap? That is where you fainted, Harry. Would you rather I had dropped you on the floor? Perhaps one of these lumpy chairs is more to your liking?" He tried to keep a light teasing quality to his voice, just to make sure the young man's shocked mind caught the difference. "I suppose I could have summoned some cold water to splash on your face, if you'd rather have woken up faster, hmm?" At least the boy had the grace to blush.

"Where's Min-Headmistress McGonagall?" Not able to meet the taller man's eyes, Harry focused on the pattern of carpet. Fascinating, really, the intricate designs one could produce with a simple charm.

"It's quite alright for you to address her as Minerva, if she has given leave for you to do so, Harry. If I didn't suspect a cardiac seizure, I would offer the same permission." _Can I still grin without smirking? Merlin, it's been such a long time, except around Albus... Oh look, he's blushing. That must mean it worked, as I figure him to lose all blood in his face were I to use the Malfoy smirk._

"Uh... Right. I hit my head on something, and this is some sort of funky potion-induced dream that's going to get me into a world of trouble when I wake up and try to call the real you by your first name."

_I do hate to sound like a cliche`, but between the blush and the babbling, Harry really is fetching. A lesser man might even call him 'cute'. Not that I'd use the term._ "Perhaps you might like to share the potion that can produce such effects? I haven't had that sort of fun since the last time I attended an Ozzy Osbourne concert."

"Ozzy? Omigod this has got to be a dream or the beginnings of a nightmare and who are you and why are you impersonating my Potions Master?!"

_Now that's an interesting slip of the tongue. I wonder what he means by it, or if it's a generalized 'my teacher' reaction..._ "I'll have you know, Mr. Potter, that Muggle rock bands hold a far wider range of listeners than rebellious young people trying to injure their parents' aural tubes. I might even venture an opinion that my tastes are more eclectic than the majority of your classmates combined efforts. With age comes variety, Harry. Don't lump me in the same stagnant pool of pond scum as _those people_."

"Ah, maybe you really _are_ my professor," Harry snickered at the aggitated expression on the older wizard's face. In a tiny voice so soft that the average person would have missed it, he asked, "Could I really call you Severus, in private?"

He waited patiently for the Gryffindor's eyes to meet his own, needing the additional contact to reinforce his message. The rolling fugue of blackest emotions barely retreated from his memory, leaving a bitter taste in Severus' mouth. This was what the Boy-Who-Lived experienced every summer? No wonder he kept close to the castle during all permissible holidays. Finally the green eyes lifted from their intense study of the carpet.

"Harry, things aren't always what they seem. Surely you've learned that much in the past few years? Every person, man or woman, wizard or witch, has more than one side to their personality. A few unlucky ones must have more than that, portraying whatever mask is necessary to maintain sanity or discretion." A deep breath allowed him to continue with absolute frankness. "You may call me Severus whenever we are alone, or here in Minerva's office. I encourage you to seek me out whenever things get... dark for you. Feel free to ask any questions, no matter the subject, and rest assured to receive an honest reply."

The clipped tones of his dreaded Potions Master were still present, but no hint of the expected sarcasm or disdain. Harry's mind tried to warp around the change in this intimidating man. As much as Minerva's personality differed from Professor McGonagall's, it only made sense that Severus and Professor Snape were completely separate beings.

"I... think I'd like that... Severus."

~ * ~

Barely an hour before the noon meal found the Headmistress back at her office at last. She was hardly surprised to hear voices within, although the calm tones were far from her expectations of any one-on-one conversation between these two tempermental wizards. Pausing at the top of the stairs, she decided to listen at the door -- she felt no guilt at eavesdropping, as it was her own office the two were using for their amusement.

"-received nothing all summer long? What on earth were they thinking? At least once per week, an Order member was assigned to visit your home to insure your well-being."

"It seemed odd to me as well, Severus, but it's true! And it isn't _my_ home -- it's the Dursleys', and I've never been welcomed there. Dunno what Dumbledore was thinking, leaving me with people who hate magic, hated my parents. Who... you saw, didn't you," Harry's voice was flat at the end, resigned to the knowledge that whatever secrets he'd held so close were now coming to light.

Severus nodded his head once, sharply, but he spoke with soothing calmness. "You are not the only young person to ever be betrayed by your guardians in such a way, Harry. There is a special hell dimension for those people responsible for such disgusting acts against the children in their care." He quickly raised a hand, halting the protest, "No, you are no longer a child, but Harry, you were far from legal age when it first began. As your guardians, it was their duty to provide a safe environment in which you could develop into a healthy, confident young man. And you, wizard or not, could never have prevented them from perpetrating the horrors upon your body, mind, and soul. To accept any miniscule amount of blame for their actions is ridiculous."

Harry sighed deeply, feeling the truth of the older man's words lift a heavy weight from his heart. "I know you're right, Severus, but it's hard to believe..."

"When you've been trained through blood and tears and too many years worth of brutality to think otherwise. Yes, I know." 

The solemnity in his words made Minerva misty-eyed, as she understood all too well how a tiny, bruise-covered Severus Snape had entered Hogwarts some twenty-five years ago. She had often suspected more than physical abuse in the Snape household, but had been persuaded from investigating the matter. Damn Albus and his manipulations! He must've known about it all along, and Harry's situation as well. Blood boiling to a fevered pitch, she pushed open her office door and joined the wizards.

"Harry, I'm glad to see you're back with us at last. Thank you so very much, Severus. I wouldn't have known how to deal with this sort of thing." A patently false smile on her face, she took a seat behind her desk and rang for lunch to be delivered. There was no earthly way she could cope with the chaos of the Great Hall today. A small table popped up near the picture window behind her desk, and she gestured the wizards to join her.

Over a healthy meal, the trio touched on numerous topics, trying to keep the conversation light-hearted after such a tumultuous morning. Of course, the cheerful banter couldn't last -- more serious concerns needed to be addressed by all parties involved.

"Harry," the Headmistress started, wary of her own conclusions, "You need not share details if it makes you uncomfortable, however, it would greatly help us rectify matters if you could... Oh blast, there's no delicate way to phrase the question! How long has this treatment been going on?"

He'd been expecting it, honestly. Since first year even. If these people, smart and experienced magic people, could produce such wonders as the ceiling of the Great Hall, brooms that really could fly, and potions for almost every ailment, then how could they not see what his home life was like? As the years passed and nothing was ever said or done about his _situation_ , Harry almost started believing the nasty things his relatives continuously drilled into his mind. More than almost, in many cases. Only after his singular birthday gift did he begin to think otherwise, but the damage was done. Wasn't it?

Looking up from his empty cup, Harry dared meet the hazel and black eyes of his professors. His friends, as he could now safely call them. "I can't remember a time when I wasn't beaten for the smallest infraction to their ever-changing rules. The rest... only a few times before Sirius died, but after that..." his voice trailed off, leaving them to draw the obvious conclusions.

Before either instructor could get a word in edgewise, Harry brought out the list he'd made the night before. With a grimace of guilt, he addressed the Headmistress, "Minerva, I'm sorry... While everyone else was at the Welcoming Feast, I came up here and broke into the student files. I had to know, you see, had to discover how much was kept secret or just overlooked. It turns out that Dumbledore-"

"Albus knew, and did nothing. Yes, Harry, I've found out how much he kept from the rest of us." Minerva's quiet anger underlined every word, barely holding back the rage she felt at her dead colleague. "It was only last night that I had the time to begin reading through the private files, and much is cloaked with distraction charms that are quite a chore to work around."

Silent until now, Severus nearly exploded. "He _knew_?! How many of my Slytherins fall under the same catagory? Or the other Houses? How many years does this neglect cover?" If Albus was guilty of permitting such abuse on the idolized Boy-Who-Lived, perhaps he also had turned a blind eye on Severus' home life...

"Boys, please. It would seem that quite a bit of maltreatment was conveniently overlooked, most likely to advance his private manipulations." Sad hazel eyes lost focus, staring out the window as she thought aloud, "We will never discover Albus' true intentions, however... there is every chance that we may do something about those currently still in school who are in similar circumstances. Severus, Harry, I must ask for your assistance in covering the mountains of paperwork as we wade through a mountain bureaucratic technicalities to determine which students are in need of aid."

He would never find a more appropriate time to ask. "Minerva, before we begin that, maybe you could answer a few questions?"

~ * ~

Fragrant bubbles surrounded him in a relaxing cocoon, allowing his mind to drift along with his body. It must've been well after midnight when he'd finally returned to his rooms, from long hours of conversation and painful reading in the Headmistress' tower. At least now he had a few answers.

 _Item A:_ Bronwen (nee Boydn) Mallory had attended school at Hogwarts, in the same class as Severus and his parents, and was one of his mother's closest friends. Bronwen Boydn was from a very old line, one of each generation born with the gift of natural, empathic healing. Thanks to the war, Bronwen was the last of her family. She had met Ricard while studying the art of psy-mediwitchery -- the healing of mind and soul, and sometimes even magic itself. They fell in love quickly, married, and spent a year travelling before their return to Great Britain. Less than a ten months after Harry was born, they seemed to have disappeared (the _Fidelus_?). Any other information would have to be sought from the Ministry, or through legal paperwork in his Gringotts vault.

_Item B:_ After being left on the Dursleys' doorstep, only one person per year was sent to check on Harry's well-being. That person's name was not in the files, nor did Minerva know his or her identity. It was suspected that the person consulted only Dumbledore, and was not involved with the Ministry of Magic's department covering child welfare.

_Items C & D:_ Barring a trip to the Infirmary to speak with Poppy Pomphrey, any medical questions would have to wait. Severus did make a point of informing him that a certain amount of damage would be permenant at this late date, but that he could produce potions to correct Harry's eyesight and encourage a late growth spurt. It was little consolation, but the offer was deeply appreciated. A complex countercurse was required to break the night-terror inducing hex that had plagued Harry all of his life. When or by whom it was cast was uncertain, but each had their suspicions at Dumbledore being the culprit.

_Item E & F:_ Harry found that, while he shared his mother's green eyes, hers were nowhere near as vibrant in intensity. An uncomfortable, silent exchange between Severus and Minerva almost made the young man burst from anger, until they finally admitted that only one other person in their experience had ever bore the same glowing color: Tom Riddle. From there, the conversation led to similarities in the magical stratum and an explanation of how it was measured and for what purposes. Harry's initial testing happened on his first birthday, only four short months before losing his parents. The young man suspected several things upon hearing this, but withheld sharing his theories until later. He wanted time to go over each point before voicing them.

_Item G:_ Neither Severus nor Minerva could explain why he was forced to remain with the Dursleys after his fourth year. They agreed that his mother's blood protection was invalidated when the Dark Lord used his blood to take his new body, so there was no reason to keep Harry with his abusers. It was pointed out that he was legally of age in the magical world, and as such could make up his own mind about where he wished to live. And what charges he would bring upon his relatives, if any. Yet another thing he needed to carefully think over.

_Thank the gods for heating charms!_ He knew how exhausted he was likely to be in the morning, but he needed the comforting warmth of a steamy hot bath after the day's revelations. _At least I'm not as completely alone as I'd feared. Not sure about Hermione, since she's dating the great red prat, but she honestly didn't seem to know anything about... anything. And Minerva! I wish she'd been able to act like this from the start. A grandmother of my own._

Sighing in contentment, Harry ducked under the water to rinse his hair, then laid back to simply float. _Still don't know what to make of Severus. His name feels strange on my tongue, but somehow good too. And that voice. Yeah, so I've heard it through six years of school. It's different when he's not biting my head off. Sorta reminds me of..._

Shooting out of the water with a great splash, Harry sputtered and gasped until his lungs cleared. In a horrified, wheezing voice, he could hardly say the words. "That dream. It was _him_!"

~ * ~

**AN:** TBC, more as soon as I can fix the bugs in my html *grumble*... please let me know what you think. 


	5. Part Five

  
Author's notes: Two dream sequences mesh to confuse and titillate Harry.  


* * *

**Fortune's Child: Part Five**

**Pertinent Story Information** (valid for this post only) **:**

**Rating:** Oh, we've definitely hit NC-17 material here. Not as graphic as some of my other fics (yet), but yeah, EXPLICIT SEX AHEAD. And if that isn't enough of a warning for ya... friend, you need glasses.

**Pairing:** Harry/male/female

**Warning:** Harry/male/female -- If you have a problem with this, you'll want to wait for the next chapter. Actually, you might want to skip this story altogether. The way things are looking, this'll be a threesome fic with loads of kink and a hefty dose of partner-swapping :P

**Summary:** Two dream sequences mesh to confuse and titillate Harry.

**Author's Notes for this chapter:** I had not originally intended for this sequence to show up for another few chapters, however, it being Valentine's Day, well, let's just say that this is the most "romantic" any of my stories will get today *lol* So, I hope you all enjoy this _**short**_ chapter, and maybe get heated up a bit for the significant others. Loads of hugs and smooches all around!

~ * ~

**Part Five**

Exhausted and confused, Harry dropped into bed with his thoughts whirling in every direction. In a way it was rather pleasant not to have the summer's revelations to dwell on anymore, but still... Having erotic dreams about the hateful Slytherin Head of House? There had to be an easier way to divert his worries from the path he was (apparently) destined to take.

 _Mmm, hard to doubt that he'd be so... skillful. Those hands, those_ fingers _! Merlin save me, I just can't seem to stop thinking about that dream._ Burrowing deeper between his thick blankets, Harry sent a silent prayer of thanks to the Founders for the luxury of a private suite. He vowed to never again take for granted the sheer joy of sleeping nude as his hands began a slow stroll across his chest. _Oh yeah, right there... Tiny little licks from a pink, juicy tongue across my nipples, those stained fingertips brushing against my sac..._

_Laying passive in the center of his bed, two sets of hands went to work on his heated flesh. Chunks of long, curly hair interwoven with silky black meshed across his stomach, forming a light blanket to cover his trembling flesh. Soft lips outlined his pectoral muscles with tender sweeps, only the occasional nip of tiny teeth keeping the movement more erotic than calming. A mere foot away, a second mouth nibbled less-than-gently along the insides of his thighs, slowly creeping toward his aching erection._

_Eyes closed tightly of their own volition, he missed the woman's face as she leaned up to capture his lips in a sensual tango. He tried to circle his arms around her, only to find that the useless limbs were bound by silk cords to the headboard. He wanted to complain, to demand his release... really... but before the words bubbled out of his mouth, an intoxicating musky scent enveloped him. Warm, wet,_ throbbing _flesh settled atop his chin, an unsubtle expectation causing his arousal to surge beyond anything he'd experienced before. His tongue darted out to discover this new territory, learning each crevasse, every change in texture. Thoroughly delicious and completely satisfying, his taste buds nearly screamed at this tasty treat._

_With all of his attention on the tantalizing juices flooding his mouth, he almost missed the first deft finger's entrance. He groaned his approval, delighting in the corresponding moan from above. Lifting his hips to meet the studied thrusts into his arse, his body moved by instinct. When one finger became two, then quickly three, his pelvis left the bed completely, stunned and shattering from the intense sensations. A firm pillow caught him as his bum dropped back to the bed, elevated to a more convenient height._

_He knew where this was headed, and honestly prayed for it never to stop. His uncle's cruel words of flaming fags and shirt-lifters evaporated in the fog of pleasure brought to life by his two lovers. And really, what did Vernon know anyways? Look at what he was stuck shagging..._

_A muted scream from above let him know just how well his ministrations were appreciated, successfully derailing his thoughts from his dreadful relatives. And if the shouts of "yes more_ there! _" weren't enough, the flood of nectar bathing his chin most certainly would've been a clue. Gentling his touch to a light lap, he eased her down from her climax, hoping to provide a second one before she climbed off his face. The swaying of her hips told exactly how pleased she was with this course of action._

_One smart slap to his left hip brought his attention elsewhere, just in time to feel those wonderfully wicked fingers leave his grasping hole. His protests were muffled, but apparently understood -- a satiny voice that told him "just a moment", slick sounds of lubrication being applied, and his craving was answered most thoroughly._

_Pressure and a burning stretch, almost to the point of discomfort before his body adapted to the intrusion. Thick, pulsing, hot and smooth... it felt like a live battering ram pushing his arse open. Only better. One that responded to his hips tilting for more, one that eagerly took his offering and gave full measure in return._

_Feminine hands grasped his legs and drew them up toward his chest, leaving him completely open, entirely vulnerable. But when that wonderful cock pushed the last inch home, he couldn't remember why he'd thought to maybe protest the position. His legs were placed across his lover's shoulders, and the angle was perfect to allow every movement brushed his prostate. Her moans and quiet whines of approval were abruptly muffled, and he could only guess that his lovers were sharing a kiss. The thought left him imaging what they must look like to an unseen observer -- a triangle of passion._

_Arms wrapped around his legs, holding him in place. Plump thighs held his head in position. Glorious tremors of pure pleasure racked his body as the sum of their efforts began to take its final hold on him. A calloused finger at his bottom lip brushed her clit in fast strokes, urging another climax from their woman. Even as she shook apart in their arms, his world came to a halt. Time and space and magic exploded and remade itself within him, taking his breath, stealing his good sense, and leaving him a shivering mass of nerve endings. It was almost too much, waiting for the final few thrusts from his lover to join them in completion. But then a series of hot jets coated his inner walls, marking an end to their lovemaking. He wanted to laugh, to cry, to beat his chest and call for world peace. He'd never felt so utterly content, and it was thanks to his two wondrous lovers that he'd had the opportunity to experience it._

_Murmurs of cleaning spells broke his coasting thoughts, as a warm sweaty body melted onto either side of his completely relaxed body. He didn't bother opening his eyes this time, not wanting them to disappear, relishing the tender kisses exchanged between them. At last his arms were unbound and he immediately hugged them close._

_Whatever else happened this year, he would find his lovers. He had to, just for the sake of his sanity. His balance. And wasn't that what they were? The balance of sunlight and shadows, light and dark, proper and wicked. What more could a man ask for?_

~ * ~

Harry woke slowly, enjoying his first truly restful sleep in more years than he cared to consider. Every detail of his dream was still fresh in his mind, including the softly muttered words of his lovers. How rare was it that he heard anyone (who wasn't planning mayhem and/or mischief) speak in such low tones... His self-proclaimed task of identifying and seducing his lovers seemed daunting at first. But he wouldn't give up, couldn't even if he wanted to. Something from his summer reading tickled his subconscious, and it took a few minutes of concentrated effort to drag the memory into daylight.

_The cultures from the Far East have long since known such simple truths of magic: there can be no light without darkness, no good without evil. Nature's balance must be upheld, or humanity will suffer as it strives to level out the impurities. Even Muggles know this, as their quaint saying proves -- Nature abhors a vacuum. It falls to us, as witches and wizards, to protect not only our magical world, but the whole of our planet. We must keep the use of dark magic in check, yes, but we also must prevent light magic from taking full control. This is the most logical theorem of the ethics of magic._

A smile on his face and a bounce to his step, Harry indulged in a long shower as he recalled the passage from _Theories on the Ethical Choices of Magic_ , one of the many books he'd devoured over the summer. 

How he wished that he could trust Hermione again... she'd love to get her hands on his new library. Come to think of it, so would Sna- _Severus_. But he couldn't imagine Minerva thinking too highly of it. While Hermione might enjoy his new acquisitions for the intellectual buffet, and Severus for the delight of future arguments, he just couldn't see Minerva as approving of anything that wasn't Light Magic Approved.

Ah well, at least he'd gotten up in plenty of time to catch the first wave of breakfast. He'd have plenty of time to think things over as he ate, and Wednesday breakfasts always offered waffles and fresh fruit.


	6. Part Six

  
Author's notes: Denial is a great vacation spot, but you can't really live there.  


* * *

**Fortune's Child: Part Six**

**Pertinent Story Information** (valid for this post only) **:**

**Rating:** Back down to PG, mainly for language.

**Pairing:** Eh, hints of a faltering RW/HG but nothing else. Oh, and a kiss.

**Warning:** None for this chapter.

**Summary:** Denial is a great vacation spot, but you can't really live there. 

**Author's Notes for this chapter:** Alright, let's put this puppy back on track plotwise. VDay's Part Five really won't hurt anything for being out of sequence with what I'd originally planned (it should've been Part Eight, according to my tentative outline, but hey things change). 

This is also where Petalsoft's theory on Dark Lords gets explained... well, my version of it. Loads of sloppy thanky smooches, darling lady! I've thoroughly enjoyed playing around with your intriguing concept :)

~ * ~

**Part Six**

By the time he entered the Great Hall, most of Harry's good mood had evaporated. He'd been run into, and practically run over, by mobs of first and second year students hurrying to grab breakfast before their first classes. On the bright side, seventh years were rarely faced with classes before 10am -- a singular benefit that he ought to be cherishing. But no, he had to wake up at the crack of dawn with his mind swirling through a dozen different problems.

Few people knew him well enough to realize exactly how... moody the Boy-Who-Lived truly was. His abhorrent childhood had trained Harry to keep such things hidden far beneath whatever mask the surroundings demanded. Only during his fifth year had he allowed that deep-seated habit to slip around his closest friends -- and look where that landed him. He couldn't trust Ron, and with Hermione dating the redhead she wasn't high on his list either. 

More than any other, he felt the loss of the Muggleborn witch's friendship like a mighty blow to his heart. She had always been there to defend and protect him (not that he needed protection in the physical sense, but she had an eerie knack for knowing when damaged his mind or heart). And now, with all that he'd learned over the summer, he could really use Hermione's brilliant brain to help him cement his plans.

_Speak of the witch_ , he inwardly smirked. Over the diminutive heads of the younger years, he spied the curly chestnut hair of his erstwhile friend, obviously nagging their new Housemates into study sessions. _At least some things never change._

Harry made no effort to avoid her, sitting on her left side as he had done so often in the past. Reaching out to snag three golden waffles and a bowl of glazed fruit, he greeted her with a soft, "Good morning."

"Harry..." Startled and somewhat nervous after his display the previous afternoon, Hermione took a deep breath and visibly forced herself to relax. "Good morning!" she chirped in a more casual tone. "Looks like you slept well."

He nodded with an odd smile hinting the corners of his mouth. "Yeah, you could say that." 

"Shall we pretend that I had no part in yesterday's fiasco?" she whispered, almost begging with her eyes for forgiveness. "I went along because I was worried about you. Granted, we don't usually exchange many letters over summer holiday, but when every one I'd written came back unopened..." She stopped, nibbling her lower lip while she tried to explain. "Ron kept saying he hadn't heard from you either, and he made it sound like he'd tried to write quite often. I-"

"Stop." A pointed look and pointed (if syrupy) fork in her direction cut off the witch's nervous babble. "Listen 'Mione, I got it. Loud and clear. Ron, and probably the Order as well, were keeping me out of contact with everyone all summer long. No, I don't know why, and at this point I'm not sure I care anymore. And please don't interrupt. He's your boyfriend, and you won't want to hear it, but this summer is hardly the first time I've had reason to doubt his friendship. Remember our second and fourth years?"

A short nod in response.

"And last year, he barely had time for anyone other than you. Or maybe I should say, trying to get into your knickers." Harry felt a slight twinge at his own words, but forced himself not to be swayed by her flush of embarrassment. "Whether he succeeded or not, it doesn't matter. Who's shagging whom, who's kissing or dating or playing gobstones, none of it matters right now. There are too many more important things to worry about. And believe me, I've been worrying enough for the lot of you."

"Us," came the reply, barely heard for its whispered protest.

"No, not anymore. 'Mione, do you remember back in fifth year, all the things Dumbledore kept from me? All the little details that could have made me more serious about learning Occlumency, or paying better attention to my dreams, or even in dealing with Sirius?" Another small nod. "Ron knew at least half of what Dumbledore never bothered to tell me. Knew as far back as third year, if I'm remembering his reactions correctly."

"What?! No! Harry, that can't be right. Why would he keep something like this from us?" Fingers clenching around her napkin, she looked ready to cry or scream. Or hex someone into the next century.

Harry laid a warm hand on his friend's white-knuckled fist. "Because he was paid to?" -- "Harry!" -- "Shh, keep it down, and listen. Or wait till after breakfast and we'll go somewhere we can't be overheard."

She still looked ready to protest, loudly and with her usual eloquence, but subsided when movement over her friend's shoulder announced the Headmistress and Deputy Headmaster's arrival. "Right then, immediately after breakfast. And you'd better have some damned good reasons for your accusations, Harry James Potter, or I'll make your life as miserable as possible for putting me through this."

A delicious shiver ran down his spine at the witch's tone of voice. Harry knew she was quite capable of doing just as she'd threatened, but also that she was too soft-hearted to carry through with much torture. Much. Even still, he'd better collect himself and figure out how to word his deductions so they'd sound more logical than emotional. Harry's 'smarts' came from his heart, his intuition; Hermione was the brain, the intellect. They balanced each other... 

At her friend's harsh gasp, the witch looked over and saw a parade of emotions crossing Harry's face. Surprise, shock, _lust?_ , dread, ending with a worried expression she couldn't quite name. She wanted to ask, but one glance at his now closed off face told her to bide her time.

_Oh feckin' hell! It'll never work. She's already with Ron, who is a prat, and she's too loyal to just leave him like that. And besides, she'd never consider me that way. Plus there's the whole threesome aspect, and sure she respects him, but as our teacher she won't want to have anything to do with him. Gotta remember to look up the school rules about student-teacher relationships..._

Finishing with her meal, Hermione didn't miss the occasional glances exchanged between the two new leaders of their school and her closest friend. She mentally made a note to add that to the growing list of questions she wanted answered. It was proving to be as long a list as her OWL revisions for Herbology -- nothing to keep her awake all week, but enough to require a third cup of extra strong tea. 

Harry wiped his mouth and neatly folded the used napkin beside his empty plate. He looked toward the head table and nodded to his professors-turned-companions. Standing to leave the hall, he caught a quick motion from Severus, the older man flicking his fingers in an almost forgotten way; memories of his disastrous attempts at Occlumency made him cringe even as he acknowledged the signal. They were to meet an hour before dinner to talk about... things.

Offering his arm to Hermione, Harry nodded to a few students as they walked quickly down several different hallways. If he played this right, he might be able to get the too-smart-for-her-own-good witch's sense of direction skewed a bit. They needed absolute privacy for this conversation, and the only place it could be guaranteed were his new chambers. Even as he thought it, a flash of last night's dream brought his flesh to life. Quickly stamping down such an ill-timed reaction, he stopped at the last major intersection before 'his' corridor.

"Hermione, will you promise not to reveal to _anyone_ where I'm staying? This is more important than it sounds, but I think maybe you're starting to understand why." He looked straight into her worried brown eyes, letting her see how serious his request truly was. "I need your vow that you will tell _no one_ before we go any farther."

She stared at him, that same piercing stare that had so often in the past made him and Ron spill all their trivial indiscretions for her to scold them over. The same stare that, when focused on any given text, would soon find the answers to the universal riddles. After a remarkably short period of time (and he breathed a quick sigh of relief that she hadn't had to think too hard about it), Hermione nodded and swore, "Harry Potter, I promise not to tell any sentient being or object the whereabouts of your private domain, nor to lead them in the general direction or in any other way divulge your location without your conscious consent."

"Oh nicely done, Ms. Granger! Twenty points to Gryffindor," Harry snickered at her disapproval. "You said it better than I could've, and thank you by the way. Now, we're almost there, so hold all questions for another three minutes, alright?"

Two short halls later, they stood in front of Harry's guardian portrait. **_Good morning, Hestia. This female is called Hermione. I will let you know after we have finished our talk, but she may have future rights to my chambers._**

**_If that is your wish, Maker._** The eerie hisses stopped and a door opened seamlessly from the stone walls.

"After you," Harry said with an impudent grin. Ushering the witch inside his rooms, he gave her a moment to look over his work before offering her a seat. "I'll just fetch a pot of tea, shall I? This is likely to turn into thirsty business."

Comfortably ensconced on the sofa, the long time friends faced one another. Harry let the silence draw out, knowing that the brilliant young woman would start shooting questions at him soon enough.

"We'll come back to your new rooms later, but I'd love to hear how you got these quarters." And there it was, the beginnings of a know-it-all-must-know tear. "First, tell me about your summer. You received none of our letters -- my letters at least, since it seems I may have been the only one to truly send any -- and if you sent any out, they never arrived. Your attitude has changed dramatically since last term. Let's start with that then."

Harry blinked. Twice. Slowly. Yes, this was his old friend in fine form. "Eh, you haven't actually asked a question yet."

A disgusted sound. "What happened this summer, other than missing correspondence, that's had such an effect on you that you hardly seem like the same person I've grown up with?"

"Ah, now that's a question..." And how to answer it without her blowing a gasket... "I'm still the Harry Potter you've known. Glasses always breaking, hair never laying in place, clothes too baggy, skinny and prone to trip across dangerous intrigue. But maybe I'm more now. No, there's no maybe about it. I've learned a few things about myself, and about that bloody prophecy, and stuff Dumbledore should've told me but never bothered -- and don't say he didn't have time, cus this is all nothing new to anyone but me!" 

Feeling his temper rise dramatically, he took a minute to calm down, drank half a cup of tea, and tried to start over. "I'm pretty sure you've already done the research on it, but tell me about Dark Lords. Basic overview, like you're revising with me for a History of Magic exam."

At the abrupt change in topic, Hermione's head tilted as her mind switched gears. Her eyes lost focus even as she started lecturing, "A Dark Lord is the focus for all dark magical powers. He -- or she, as there have been a few Dark Ladies in ancient history -- is the binding force that draws all like-minded magical people, dark creatures, and various sentient artifacts together. In order for the inherent balance of magic to be maintained, both dark and light aspects must be in synchronicity, without one overpowering the other. Voldemort keeps messing up, trying to take over and crush out the lighter side of magic."

Her eyes regained some focus, directing it straight at Harry. He watched closely, noting exactly when the lightbulb turned on inside that brilliant mind. "Only one Dark Lord can exist at a time. When one dies, another takes his place. And that means... but Harry, you were born before he died! How on earth-"

"-could I inherit the job? He didn't die a natural death, some would say he didn't truly die as lose his mortal body. Therefore, passing on the title and all its dubious responsibilities fell to the nearest infant. Me." He rolled his eyes and flung the back of his hand toward his forehead, sighing melodramatically, "Oh the horror, the shame, whatever shall I do?" And with a theatrical flop, landed beside the stunned witch on the sofa.

Almost bouncing off her seat, Hermione grasped his nearest hand and held on till his bones creaked in protest. She looked to be approaching critical mass. "Harry, you've got to take this seriously! Who else knows? Oh Merlin! You could be in so much danger..."

"Eh, 'Mione, hate to remind you, but I'm already in danger. Constantly. And as for who else knows... you and me, and at least one other. Dumbledore knew, but he didn't say anything before he died."

Without warning or any visible reason, the young woman threw her arms around him and burst into tears. In between muffled sobs, she mumbled, "Sorry, so sorry, you shouldn't have to go through this, don't know how to fix it, can't tell Ron, can't tell anyone, except maybe Snape or the Headmistress, oh Harry why does it always have to be you?"

The wizard in question was completely and utterly flummoxed. How was he supposed to react to a weepy witch? Having so seldom had anyone offer him solace, he hadn't a clue how to go about comforting his friend. An awkward hand patted her back, stroked her hair, and he pulled her onto his lap to hold her close.

"Hey, it's not the end of the world, right? Just something new for you to research. Another project. You should like that." His words had no effect other than to encourage a second round of tears slowly saturating his shirt. "Shh, come on 'Mione, it's gonna be alright, promise."

With no warning, his reassurances were cut short by the softest, warmest pair of lips he'd ever imagined (and hadn't he dreamed them?) pressed against his own. He knew he should protest, remind them both that she was dating Ron, that this wasn't the best idea, but nothing else seemed to matter other than the delightfully feminine body wiggling in his lap. Harry used every bit of self control he could muster to keep his hands in more appropriate places, regardless of how much he wanted to explore this new territory. A dark shadow in his mind whispered that she was already his, to take what was blatantly offered. Pulling his head away with a jerk, his eyes wide, Harry stared at his closest friend, both horrified and highly aroused. What was that... voice in his thoughts, trying to get him to do unspeakable things?

Hermione's thick lashes parted slowly, letting uncertain brown eyes lift to meet his. In a small voice, she asked, "Did you not... I'm sorry, maybe I'm no good at... should I...?"

"Hermione, wait, hold your questions for a bit, yeah?" Petting her hair seemed to calm the trembling young woman, so he maintained a level rhythm as he struggled to collect his thoughts. "Are you and Ron no longer together?" he had to ask, and promptly damned himself for being so honorable.

That broke their eye contact. Flushed and ready to cry again, Hermione bit her bottom lip as her ever-logical brain tried to make sense of the situation. "Technically, we haven't broken up yet. But Harry, we were really never a couple, and I know he's seeing Lavender too."

"That doesn't make it right, nor should you have to put up with being treated as a fall-back option." With a deep sigh of disgust, he dropped his head on top of hers, placing a soft kiss on the crown of her curly head. "And before you make any sort of life-altering decisions, you need to hear everything. There's more... alot more. And some of it is beyond 'hey, I woke up this morning to find out I'm a witch and there's a whole magical world filled with wands and killing curses and real flying dragons' weird." He squeezed her to his chest one last time, reveling in the feel of her body against his, memorizing it for future wanking reference. "Want to sit back over there while you hear me out?"

For a minute, he thought she'd dozed off. Hermione Granger was never this quiet when there was a problem to solve, unless she was in the library with only a mountain of books as companions. Then she shook her head and snuggled closer, saying, "I think I'm quite comfortable right here, if it's all the same to you. Unless you'd rather..."

"No, please, stay where you are. I'm damned either way." 

He tried to make a joke of it, but Hermione could hear the condemnation in his tone. She snaked smooth fingers up across his jawline, cupping his face to draw him down for one last, close-mouthed kiss. "You're still Harry to me, just Harry. Let's hear what this is all about, shall we?"

So in short sentences and long rambling thoughts, he spilled out the most startling events of his summer revelations.


	7. Part Seven

  
Author's notes: What I did this summer, by Harry J Potter.  


* * *

**Fortune's Child: Part Seven**

**Pertinent Story Information** (valid for this post only) **:**

**Rating:** PG-13 at most. Sorry :P

**Pairing:** Moving along, but still nothing definite.

**Warning:** Alright children, follow the bouncing ball. For those of you who've asked for explanations, here they are. But you'll have to read carefully. *grin*

**Summary:** What I did this summer, by Harry J. Potter.

**Author's Notes for this chapter:** I'm making sure to post Parts Six and Seven together. They were originally the same chapter, but I'm trying to be consistent with the length of each section. *cough* This one-turned-two just didn't want to stop. And just so you know, I've left a minor cliffhanger here. Have fun, and don't cuss at me too much.

~ * ~

**Part Seven**

_Harry's First Person POV_

After saying goodbye to everyone at Kings Cross, I found Uncle Vernon trying to hide his huge arse behind some loaded trolleys. He did his usual -- cuffed me on the back of the head, called me a few dozen nasty names, and ordered me to stop wasting his time and get into the car.

We went straight back to Privet Drive, nothing unusual about that. When the car stopped, he turned around in the seat and said, "Get your _trash_ out of my car and go straight to your room. No questions."

Again, nothing terribly out of the ordinary.

Until I got inside and noticed all the luggage in the parlor. No questions meant no questions, so I took my trunk and Hedwig's cage upstairs and put them away. It was safer for me to wait where I was told, and maybe someone would tell me what was going on eventually.

Half an hour later, Aunt Petunia opened the door and told me, all crisp and business-like, "Vernon got a promotion. He must travel all summer to set up and train the newest branches, and Dudley and I will be joining him. _You_ are to stay here. Since we can't place you with any of those _abnormal_ types till September, you'll just have to make do without supervision. But know this: if we come back to find anything _odd_ has been done to or in our home, you will wish you'd never been born. You will invite none of your _friends_ to visit, and complete your list of chores without complaint. There had better not be any reason for you to step foot off this property before we return the last week of August."

And that was it. She turned and left the room before I had the chance to think up a single question. Odd that, after all this time, Vernon was just now receiving the promotion he'd been aiming to get for at least ten years. Odd again that they were willing to leave me alone for so long. I had just about come to grips with this unsettling change when the front door slammed and I heard the car drive off.

How much food had they left? I didn't expect much, since they rarely worried about feeding me anyways, but if I wasn't allowed to leave the property... Had someone from the Order contacted them, warned them to keep me at home? Did that mean that someone would be by to check on me, like last year? With Dumbledore dead, I didn't know who to contact, other than you and Ron, but neither of you answered my letters.

You might think I was upset about being left to my own devices, but actually the reverse was true. A whole summer without the Dursleys? Hell, I was thrilled! Alright, so the list Petunia left was longer than usual, but without the _distraction_ of having to dodge my relatives I could easily get it done in just a couple of weeks. 

My only concern was how long before I had to leave the boundaries of their house to go grocery shopping. Unlike Ron, I'm not led by my stomach, but you gotta understand how close to starvation they've left me time and again to realize my very real worries on this subject. A quick search of the kitchen showed that it was stocked for at least six weeks -- dry and canned goods piled high in the pantry, freezer fully stocked, I'd only need to replace milk or bread or eggs every other week. 

And that dubious consideration struck me as being more unnatural than the whole spontaneous promotion and Dursley-free summer. They had never been very conscientious about providing the basics for me. Ever. So what had changed?

McGonagall -- don't look at me like that, 'Mione. This is my story to tell, and I'll tell it like it happened -- accused me more than once of living on 'sheer dumb luck', remember? That's what it kept coming back to. The only explanation I could come up with was that, somehow, I'd finally gotten lucky enough to be rid of the Dursleys. And I wasn't about to tempt fate by arguing over it!

Still, between the nagging voice in the back of my mind (that sounds a bit like you) telling me not to take chances, get my chores done, and the very real promise of pain if they were lying just to catch me out... well, I got my chores done in record time. Worked out in the sunlight, got a tan along the way, built up some muscle, and no one was around to make a mess of my hard work. It felt good.

The very last day I spent on chores, I'd just finished up and was heading inside for a shower when the post came. With a package for me. Thinking it was an early birthday gift from you or the Weasleys, I signed for it and took it to the kitchen. Only it ended up not being signed at all. And with that rule about no magic over summer hols, I couldn't very well check for curses... and you know how much my curiosity and impatience can get me in trouble.

This time I was lucky. The package held a beautiful hand-carved wooden box, and inside the box were some of the most interesting and... enlightening books I've ever seen. Yes, before you ask, you're welcome to read most of them. There's a couple that are very... personal, and I won't loan them out to anyone, but the rest are free for loan. Topping the stack of books was a long letter. Except not just a letter. It was charmed to speak and respond (to a point), and no, I didn't recognize the voice. The letter-voice explained how to use the box, and what each of the books was about, and told how to correspond with the sender. No, I still don't know for certain who the sender is, but I'm quite certain that he or she is on my side. Notice how I said that, did you? Looks like you're still the smartest witch of our generation, Hermione.

So, I've been reading all about the ethics of magic, and the important parts of history that have nothing to do with goblin wars or any of that nonsense Binns teaches, and about the magical world as a whole. Y'know, every Muggle-raised student should have some sort of course explaining about the magical community and its traditions... I've always wondered why there wasn't a class like that at Hogwarts. But maybe I know why, or rather _who_ , and that little snag can be fixed easily now.

Right, the snag. Dumbledore. Oh come on, put that excellent brain to work, 'Mione. I'm sure you can figure out alot of the problems he's created. Right, my own deductions. 

First, consider this: he's taught or Headed the primary magical school for all of Western Europe, which means that each person in the past _hundred years_ has been influenced by him one way or another. That whole act of slightly barmy but lovable old coot, it was just that, an act. Most people never bother looking beneath the surface, beyond first impressions. He was everyone's favorite grandfather-figure. Kind and loving and always there to listen or pull your arse out of trouble. Right? Ha! Half the time, he manipulated events to where trouble found you, making you run to him for help.

And that's point number two. Don't you think there was a better place for baby Potter than in the horrible Dursleys' dubious care? How about Neville's circumstances, with his grandmother browbeating him and telling him how useless he was? Or how Mr. Weasley didn't get promoted a single time since 1980? Too many coincidences, all leading back to Dumbledore and his influence in every aspect of our world. For whatever reason, he pulled strings and pushed buttons and made sure his key players were exactly where he wanted them to be.

Another thing that's always bothered me was Hogwarts' revolving door policy with Defense instructors. Up until about twelve years ago, the same instructor had been there, and done a pretty fine job of it, for almost thirty years. He had no plans to retire, and no one knows why he just... disappeared. Didn't know that, did ya? I had to do a little snooping to find out, myself. What good would it do for us to have a new Defense teacher every year? Except to make things more difficult, but that's a different point.

Alright, fine, I'll cover that one now. It's the most selfish part of my list, but maybe I'm entitled to a little selfishness on this topic. From our very first year at Hogwarts, there have been situations -- dangerous, deadly even -- in which I've been pushed into... with you and Ron, and sometimes a few of our other classmates, that _children_ should never have to face. Don't you find it curious how we kept coming across hints and clues that led us into bizarre circumstances? How there never seemed to be an adult around to solve the problems? How, as omniscient as he made himself out to be, Dumbledore never once stepped in and said, "This is not your fight, Harry."? No, he just kept up the dotty granddad routine, while sneaking invisibility cloaks and mysterious maps into our possession.

And yeah, now's probably a good time to take a break. I'm gonna get... jittery, if this keeps up.

So, what do you think so far? If it was dangerous to be my friend these past six years, now that I know who and what I really am, it's going to get so much worse. And if you become... anything else... well, don't be surprised if either side tries to kidnap you, or the whole school starts talking bad about you like in fourth year. I can't promise that you won't be hurt by the general public's gossip, however slanderous it is. But I can swear that, to the best of my ability, you will never come to physical harm by being around me. You're my best friend, 'Mione -- no matter what else, you'll always be my number one friend.

_End POV_

~ * ~

Hermione sat still, contemplating everything her friend had just told her. So much information to assimilate, but she wasn't the brightest student at Hogwarts for nothing. This should be a piece of cake, right? In theory...

Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived and her best friend of six years, was a Dark Lord.

Not only that, but the recently deceased Headmaster Dumbledore had known about it. Had choreographed dangerous tasks for Harry to fall into, and sink or swim on his own merit. Had encouraged such foolhardy behavior, albeit behind the scenes, time and time again. Was there no one who objected to such mechanisms?

Yes, of course there was. Professor Snape and Headmistress McGonagall always voiced their opinions when they knew of the situation. Granted, the Headmistress was much more... tactful about it, but the Head of Slytherin never failed to rush in when Harry's life was threatened. She had to wonder how often he had been _scolded_ for his efforts.

The question of her willingness to place herself in even more danger to stay by Harry's side, well, it wasn't really a question at all. Of course she would! He was her very best friend, that's what friends did for one another. That there seemed to be more to their friendship than purely platonic feelings was a bit of a surprise, but considering how chaotic her relationship was with Ron, she thought she might be forgiven for not giving thought to Harry in such a way. 

But oh, she was definitely thinking about him now! That one simple kiss had affected her more profoundly than a dozen of Ron's. Add that in with the fact that she was still happily perched on his lap (and yes, she had noticed his body's reaction to her close proximity), along with her own physical reactions, and perhaps she had made a poor choice for her first boyfriend. 

Which, in the grand scheme of things, should not be her first priority here. _Straighten out Harry's latest mess, then see to the rest. That's the plan._

Ticking off each item on her fingers, she gave voice to her thoughts. "Alright then, let's see if we're on the same page. Dumbledore withheld information that caused grief and long term emotional damage -- specifically to you, but to numerous others as well. You're the latest Dark Lord, and Voldemort is yesterday's news because he gifted you with his powers before he disassociated himself from his body. The Dursleys were sent away for the summer, but left you with plenty of food and no new injuries. Which is suspicious enough by itself, but then you receive a package while you are at home alone, and you don't know the person that sent it. Said package involved training and private journals of dead people, explaining most of the questions you've tried to answer since learning about your heritage. Oh, and let's not forget that you can communicate with something that doesn't have a brain -- don't you remember Tom Riddle's diary? Honestly, Harry."

"Hey now!" His half-hearted protests were quickly silenced by a well-placed _look_. "Bloody hell, you're turning into Minerva," he swore under his breath. But not quietly enough to go unnoticed.

"And there's another piece of the puzzle, although I don't recall hearing anything about your being on first name basis with any of our professors." 

Eyebrow quirked, she looked a bit like Severus. Harry squirmed in both discomfort and the beginnings of arousal. "There's more to the story, but I need a break. Please 'Mione, let's grab a bite and talk about silly things for a while?" Big green eyes pleaded with the witch, playing on her sympathies.'

"You won't be getting out of this, Harry James Potter," she scolded him before relenting, "but I expect it would do us some good to stretch a bit."

Putting words to actions, Hermione wiggled her bum across Harry's lap, enjoying the hastily muffled groan her shimmy produced before standing to see about tea and sandwiches. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the stunned expression on her friend's face, the evidence of his desire for her (or at least her body) straining against his trousers. That tiny section of her brain devoted to instinctive female responses gave a healthy purr of satisfaction -- a virile, powerful male was attracted to her, and that was all it deemed important. She shoved back her most primal urge to claim aforementioned male, and pulled the cord to summon Dobby.

With more enthusiasm than grace, the bouncy house elf answered the call, took their request for snacks, and popped back to the kitchens. Two minutes later, a heavily-laden tray appeared on the table in front of the sofa.

"Well, at least some things don't change," Hermione said, stunned and somewhat daunted by the sheer quantity of food in front of them.

"Uh, yeah... Dobby the over-achiever. Think we could deliver most of this mess to the first years? They'll be getting out of their second class pretty soon." Harry was just as overwhelmed. Couldn't the little elf see that there were just two of them present? Maybe he was so used to having Ron to feed... but that thought didn't bear completing.

"Right. Great Hall, banish all but one plate to the first years. Oh. My. Gods."

With the habits of long friendship, the two exchanged a look of carefree amusement before sending the mountain of food down to feed voracious firsties. Hermione's uplifted mood was only tempered by one thing: she regretted how seldom she got to see her best friend looking so relaxed and worry free. 

Over ham and swiss, they exchanged the general nonsense of schedules and start-of-term projects, ignoring for the time anything that struck them as serious. And while Harry had no problem skipping classes -- had actually planned to do so, unless the day's topic was important to his plans -- he was thrilled when Miss Head Girl proclaimed him more important than schoolwork. Most of the remaining tension dropped from his frame, and he let himself enjoy the morning's relaxation with his best girl.

~ * ~

"I can't believe you broke into the Headmistress' office, Harry! And there are copyright laws, you know. When Professor McGonagall finds out-"

"She already knows, 'Mione. Calm down!" 

Not at all sheepish, Harry's grin nearly drove her insane. At times like these, she recalled how well Harry got on with Fred and George Weasley. And a shudder of nervous apprehension wracked her body.

"Anyways, that's almost it. All that's left is... probably the most personal part, and that's only started since Monday night." Checking to make sure he wasn't going to be in real trouble with the truly scary witch, Harry found himself focusing on his shoelaces. It seemed easier to stare at them than to chance a look in Hermione's direction. He didn't want to see fear or loathing, or any other negative response to his confession. 

"I've started having... dreams..." He held up a hand before she could protest. "Not that type, don't worry. Nothing like the visions from Voldie. Nothing _**at all**_ like those! Er, actually..." His face had to be Gryffindor red by now. "Really personal... dreams... graphic and..." No lightbulb yet, so he'd have to be a little blunt. "Wet."

The silence only lasted long enough for his last word to sink in, then the witch joined his blush with one of her own. "Ah, yes... those kind of... dreams?"

"Right." He swallowed hard, not that it helped. "They've never been so... explicit before."

"That good, huh?" With a cheeky grin, Hermione got over the worst of her embarrassment. It was a natural biological function, wasn't it? Why should they be skittish discussing such things? "Well, come on then, let's hear it."

And that startled him out of his shell. "You, Hermione Granger of the no-snogging-between-classes lawmaker, want to hear about my wet dreams?"

Her flush came back full force, and goose bumps joined the party. But she couldn't let her friend down, and he seemed troubled by these nightly visitors. So what if she wanted to know who he was dreaming about... she was just being a good friend, concerned and willing to listen. "Anything to help out, you know that, Harry," was her prim reply. The effect was ruined by her eyes, sparkling in amusement and curiosity.

She was smiling, but it wasn't a mocking smile. That alone gave Harry the confidence to reveal, "There've been three different ones. The first night was a shock, but only that I remember so many details about it. Most of this type of dream are sorta... nebulous. But I can recall all sorts of details. Except her face. Frustrated the hell out of me the next morning.

"Then the second night, it was just as good, and just as bad. And with a little curve thrown in for good measure -- my partner was... a man." He waited for the condemnation or disgust that would surely show on her face. Instead, Hermione's eyes glazed over a bit. "That doesn't bother you?"

"Hmm? Oh, no, not at all."

In fact, she seemed rather pleased about this turn of events. To test that theory, he went on to finish, "But the best was last night's. They were both there, and even though I never saw their faces, I could tell that it was the same two people. Both at the same time, covering me with their bodies, using me for their pleasure while giving me the best orgasm I've ever felt. She sat on my face while he worked his fingers inside my-"

"I get the picture! Loud and clear, thank you very much." Flustered and incredibly turned on, Hermione leaned forward to replenish her tea. It was an obvious distraction technique, but neither mentioned that. "You never saw their faces?"

She looked so hopeful, and scared too. He wasn't sure what the conflicting emotions meant, but he needed to be honest. "No, but I finally recognized them in other ways. His voice was the best clue, and his fingers -- you probably don't want to ask. It wasn't till breakfast that I realized who _she_ was, again by voice." Her eyes shuttered almost completely, and her breath hitched. "It was you, 'Mione."


	8. Part Eight

  
Author's notes: See Prologue & Part One for full summary, disclaimers, etc.  


* * *

**Fortune's Child: Part Eight**

**Pertinent Story Information** (valid for this post only) **:**

**Rating:** let's call it PG-13, for strong hints of child abuse.

**Pairing:** none for this chapter.

**Warning:** nope, can't think of any.

**Summary:** Harry and Hermione, Severus and Minerva, Dobby and flashbacks. Not necessarily in that order.

**Author's Notes for this chapter:** All I can do is offer a blanket apology for not posting anything sooner. Real life has intruded once more, with Spring Break and my son's 16th birthday coming up -- I've spent more time on the phone in the past two weeks than in the previous six months. And last week, someone brought home a case of bronchitis that I managed to contract. Lovely. Unfortunately things don't seem to be leveling out anytime soon, so expect me to only post updates every other week (then you can be pleasantly surprised if it's more frequent).

~ * ~

**Part Eight**

"It was you, 'Mione," he repeated. Normally by this point, his assertive witch would have a dozen questions and observations ready to bombard the bearer of such news. That she just sat there, quiet and wide-eyed, made Harry more than a little nervous.

If the average person's brain was a steam-powered engine, Hermione Granger's mind would be comparable to a nuclear reactor. Even so, it took several long minutes (wherein the Boy-Who-Lived rapidly approached meltdown) for her to form a single, logical comment. When it came, he was no more enlightened.

"Harry, how often do you have intuitive dreams?"

A quick flick of his eyes meeting hers. "Uh, off and on, most of my life really."

Nodding her head slightly, she continued, "And are they terribly vivid, or more... obscure?"

"A bit of both. What I see is usually in flashes, and sometimes they don't make any sense at all, but they're pretty intense. When the pieces finally fall together, it's clear enough."

Again she nodded, drifting back into deep thought.

Harry kept his position on the sofa, torn between worry at his normally vocal friend's silence and the more base pleasure of said friend's delightfully round posterior perched across his lap. As serious as the subject matter was, he couldn't feel terribly embarrassed -- teenaged males were led by their hormones, and as inconvenient as that fact was, it couldn't be ignored. He resigned himself to a slow, steady throb of arousal.

Soon enough Hermione's attention refocused, her lovely brown eyes tracking back to her friend's concerned gaze. "Alright then, we'll see what happens. You said you'd figured out who the other man was?" He nodded once, agog at her easy acceptance. "You'll have to tell me about it later. In the meantime, I think you should calm down. Really Harry, did you expect me to throw some sort of temper tantrum? I'm hardly an innocent, regardless of how little experience I have."

His mouth flapped open and closed a couple of times. In the end, Harry simply sighed and let his surprise ebb away. Of all the people in his life, Hermione was the one person he'd always counted on to keep a level head. Why he was stunned when she fulfilled that expectation yet again, he couldn't explain.

"Right. So... where do we go from here?" And wasn't that the ten million galleon question?

Eyes rolling in exasperation, she whapped him on the shoulder. "Honestly, men just don't _think_! The first thing we do is determine how difficult it's going to be to snag the third person..." In midthought, she stopped and corrected herself. "No, the very first thing we need to do is talk about what else you learned over the summer. Maybe we should include Headmistress McGonagall and Professor Snape too -- and don't try to tell me that they can't be trusted, Harry, because I saw the looks and gestures this morning."

"I've talked with them both a bit about some things, but 'Mione, some of it's awfully personal."

The light flush on Harry's cheeks told her more about his newfound knowledge than what little he'd so far mentioned. Still, she wasn't about to let him off so easily.

"I understand if you don't wish to share certain aspects of what you've learned, however, it's terribly important that we have more than each other to support your future actions and decisions." Here she paused and placed a sweet kiss on Harry's forehead. "You have permission to call them both by their first names?" He mumbled a quiet yes, and she nodded. "That's what I gathered from your earlier slip. Which means that neither of them are likely to be too harsh in their interrogation. It can't hurt too much to _try_."

Harry opened his mouth to say... something, he wasn't sure, but before he could dig himself deeper into the pit of his embarrassment, Dobby popped in.

"Harry Potter sir is wishing to have dinner in his rooms tonight?"

The young wizard groaned loud enough for both witch and elf to hear. "It's that late already? Merlin! I've got an appointment with-"

"Yes sir, Harry Potter sir! It's half til dinner now. Dobby knows that Harry Potter must meet with the Headmistress." Between bounces, the little house elf's eyes widened as he took in his favorite wizard's current situation. "Oh sir! You is finding a mate? Oh Dobby is so very happy for Harry Potter!"

Hermione bit her tongue to keep from correcting or interrupting. She would never be comfortable with any form of enslavement, but at least the Hogwarts house elves were treated fairly. With an impish grin, she waited to see how Harry would respond to Dobby's announcement.

"Dobby, wait, we're not, well not yet... Dobby. Dobby!" In no position to capture the vibrating elf, Harry had to raise his voice and call several times to regain his attention. "Dobby, listen, you can't say anything to anyone about this. Not yet. I don't know how house elves do things, but humans need to go through long stages before they find their 'mates'. And right now, we're still trying to decide if we want to... court."

Nodding sagely, his large ears flapping, Dobby readily agreed, "Of course, sir. Dobby knows that wizards and witches often take years to claim their mates. But Harry Potter has found a good potential mate and mustn't waste time. Harry Potter would be unhappy if someone took Miss 'Minie from him."

Harry cocked his head and thought over the elf's observations, and found that he was absolutely right. Catching the witch's questioning look, he locked eyes with Hermione. "Yes, I would be very unhappy if anyone took Hermione from me."

With a sly smile, the elf popped out of the room, leaving the students to their own devices.

~ * ~

On their way up to the Headmistress' office, they passed only a few people. That much was no surprise -- every year, returning students spent the first few days telling their friends all about their holiday. Nevertheless, Harry was most relieved to be safely behind the gargoyle guardian and away from prying eyes.

Before the inner door opened, he stopped and turned to say one last thing privately to Hermione. "Don't be surprised if they're a bit... worried about me. I sorta fell apart yesterday, and we haven't had much chance to discuss the why's and all." So saying, he pushed open the door and led the way inside.

Not being the Boy-Who-Lived, Hermione was somewhat less accustomed to the Hogwarts Head tower. She saw a number of changes from when Dumbledore had been Headmaster, and carefully categorized each in her mental filing cabinet. She'd only gotten halfway around the room before her thoughts were interrupted.

"Harry, welcome back. Hermione, I wasn't sure if you would come. Regardless of what Severus said." Minerva rose from her desk chair, moving to greet her favorite Gryffindors. Off in a dark recess, the Potions Master snorted just loud enough to draw both students' attention. "Don't mind him, Hermione. I think he's a bit put out by my refusing to place a bet as to whether or not you would join tonight's talk."

Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but Harry was quicker. "Minerva, if you could maybe tell 'Mione a bit of what we talked about already? I think I need to speak with Severus for a few minutes."

Before either witch could question him, he was halfway across the room.

Minerva raised an eyebrow, a move mimicked by her star pupil. "You wouldn't happen to have any ideas as to what this is all about, do you?"

"Not a one, Headmistress, I'm sorry." Nibbling her lower lip, Hermione kept watch as her best friend talked in low whispers with the feared Potions Master. A soft hand on her shoulder broke through her observation.

"Behind these doors, I would like for you to call me Minerva." The Scottish witch gave her favored student a gentle smile. "Perhaps Harry has not yet found time to explain anything that has occurred since his return to Hogwarts. We can always interrogate the menfolk when their talk is through."

"Of course, Headm-Minerva," the words tripped awkwardly from Hermione's lips, but she stumbled on. Accepting a chair and steaming cup of tea, she was soon too preoccupied to worry overmuch about her friend's conversation.

~ * ~

Leaving his best friend in the Headmistress' capable hands, Harry headed straight for his target. It was with an odd combination of dread and hope that he approached the stern Head of Slytherin. And yet, after having confirmed that he had some chance with the woman from his dreams, Harry craved the full triad -- now he just needed an opening with the older man.

Striving to keep the appropriate 'man-to-man' tone in his voice, Harry spoke softly, "Severus, about yesterday-"

"Harry, there is nothing to feel ashamed about. Every person eventually finds their breaking point. That you were amongst friends when it happened is a simply miraculous occurrence." The Potions Master continued to stare absently at the closest bookcase, as if perusing the titles. "You should not allow yourself a drop of guilt, shame, or regret -- such emotions are misplaced in this situation."

Harry denied the charges with a quick shake of his head. "That's not what I meant, sir. Or not entirely." He waited until Severus' eyes raised to meet his. "When I passed out, and you were holding me... I had a dream, or vision, or something..."

"Ah, yes. But such things are intensely personal. Perhaps we should let that part of the events pass-"

"No! Sorry Severus, but I can't." Taking a deep breath to gather his courage and collect his scattered thoughts, Harry tried to start over. "That isn't the first time I've had this type of... dream. But it was the clearest, and I think I know who it was about." He felt his face heat as he recalled several pertinent details. "You may be right, that this isn't the best time to open such a sensitive subject, but would you maybe find time to..."

For several heartbeats, Severus stared into his student's dazzling green eyes. _Whatever, or whomever, he saw has affected him a great deal. Normally I would tell any student approaching me with these matters to speak with their parents, or older siblings even. But Harry has neither, and his guardians are the farthest from being appropriate considering their past actions. How can I turn him away?_ The decision to offer assistance was nowhere near as difficult to make as he'd expected.

"Of course, Harry. Shall we make time after meeting with Minerva?" A quick nod. "Very well then, let us join the women. You still have not explained to my satisfaction the contents of your birthday package."

_Well, if that's the best I can hope for, at least he didn't turn me away,_ Harry grumbled to himself as they took their seats near Minerva's desk. _Hope 'Mione doesn't put up a fuss when I disappear down to the dungeons._

The Headmistress cleared her throat, bringing Harry back from his internal conversation. "Harry, I believe you promised to provide us with a few details?"

With Hermione and Severus both looking way too eager, Harry knew he would not be permitted to leave the Head tower without giving full disclosure. He swallowed the last bit of his tea and let his mind drift back.

~ * ~

_  
**Flashback to July 31st**  
_

_Warm sunlight filtered in through the single, tiny window, causing Harry to pull his threadbare sheet over his face. As with every other Dursley-free day of the summer, it took him several minutes to accept that he was not 1) in pain, 2) starving, and 3) being yelled at or beaten. Safe from immediate harm, he indulged in a full-body stretch, scratching at the crinkled hair low on his stomach._

_He threw off the sheet and made his way to the loo. Little pieces of memory sparkled behind closed eyes as he relieved his bladder... then one particular scene caused him to miss the toilet. Cursing himself for making a mess, and at whomever sent that box, he cleaned the fixtures, washed his hands, and headed back to his bedroom._

_Just as he'd left it the previous night, the perplexing gift sat atop his desk. In direct sunlight it looked even more attractive -- the deep blood red split into a dozen shades of crimson, giving more depth to the wood. For all it was obviously an amateur's first effort, Harry decided it was still a handsome piece of work._

_That he had no idea who had sent it caused him the most consternation, but even that niggling worry couldn't prevent him from wanting to accept the information within. Besides, surely an artifact of his parents would be protected against harming their loved ones. Right? He snorted at his own wistfulness. There were never any guarantees. Hadn't he learned how dangerous it was to trust a magic item that spoke, thanks to Tom Riddle's diary? And yet... the speaker had stated his (or her, since the sender used a voice modification spell) desire to help Harry be rid of the loathsome Dark Lord._

_In all his short life, Harry had survived numerous disasters by listening to his instincts. He cleared his mind and forced all higher brain functions to quiet, praying that he could get a 'feel' for the intentions behind his gift. What came back both startled and soothed him -- from deep within, he received an intensely clear feeling of welcome toward both the box and its origins. Forced to accept his first impression but still uneasy, he warily reminded himself to research such instinctive impulses when he returned to school._

_Grabbing the wooden box, he retreated to his bed, sitting crosslegged against the wall. As much as he wanted to simply open the lid and dive headfirst into its wealth of promised knowledge, Harry took a few minutes to touch and memorize the detailed designs along its tooled sides._

__Mum made this for Dad. She must've spent weeks designing and carving it. Did she wait every day for him to go off to work, just to keep it a surprise? Maybe she kept a journal, and somewhere it tells which spells she used. Gods how I wish... No, there's no sense wishing for things that can't ever be, Harry. Just open the box and get it done with. __

_As he raised the lid, Harry breathed a sigh of relief. The glowing light that had first concerned him was dimmed to a more tolerable level, and no voice of dubious origin startled him. Instead, he found a journal lying on top of a seemingly bottomless stack of books, the tightly looped script across its face announced ****_Lily Evans Potter, 1980-1981 _._

_Reverently placing the leather-bound diary beside the box, Harry unfolded himself and stood on shaky legs._ There's no way I can handle this before breakfast, and once I start, I'll probably lose track of time and forget to eat the rest of the day. _He stared hungrily at his mother's notebook, backing out of the room to keep it in his sights as long as possible._

__Not obsessed, nope, of course not. Anyone would feel the same in my shoes. Except for nightmare flashes of her dying, I can't remember Mum at all. Why wouldn't I be so fixated... nothing unhealthy about it. __

_Harry forced himself to eat a full breakfast at the kitchen table, then cleaned and washed afterwards. He walked slowly through the lower floor of the house, dusting as he went. A slow torture just to prove that he could deny the pull from upstairs. Fully an hour later, he returned to his room and got comfortable, as ready as he'd ever be._

__This diary was a wedding gift by the most wonderful friend a woman could wish to have. Bronwen, I must thank you for your love and friendship, for your ability to look beyond the masks we all must wear and see something worthy in every living creature. May you live a long, happy life.

So here it begins. 

On this first full day of my marriage...

~ * ~

_Several hours later, Harry gently shut the book, reverently running his fingers across his mother's name on the cover. So many questions had been answered, but many more besieged him now._ You can't argue with the dead, Harry.

_Between his mother's frank observations of his father's unnatural prejudice against any non-Gryffindor, and his own brief glimpse into Snape's pensieve, Harry wasn't sure he could ever forgive his father's random acts of cruelty. Granted, there was much more to the man than his interaction with Slytherins, but Harry had fallen victim to the same flavor of torment. He decided that, yes, he did wish to forgive and forget. He wanted to feel the unquestioning respect a son has for his father. But at this point, it might take years for that to happen._

__At least Mum wasn't like that. __

_Depressing thoughts aside, Harry was quite content with the day's revelations. He'd gotten a look into the way his mother thought and felt about so many things, plus all the anecdotes she felt important (or amusing) enough to preserve. Many tales were of people he knew or had heard about, although quite a few unfamiliar names were mentioned._

__It was during the war. People died, on both sides. But it shouldn't be that hard to find out what happened to them. The school library has loads of back issues of the _Daily Prophet_ , and I'm sure Hermione would love to help me look. _He made a mental note to ask for help as soon as he saw the young witch, then set aside his mother's diary._

_Harry went back downstairs to grab a bite of dinner, his mind swimming with conjured images. He'd not had much time to spend with either Sirius or Remus to learn much about them, but reading Lily's journal made him feel closer to them. That it also made him angry beyond belief, well, what had he expected? Harry knew all too well how much animosity was between the Marauders and Severus Snape. If he had to take the bad with the good, at least now he had a less biased opinion._

__I never would have suspected that Snape and I have so much in common. And wouldn't he be so very _thrilled_ by that? Both of us grew up with bullies at home, bullies at school, social pariahs -- even if my case is for an image I didn't earn. Maybe I should make more of an effort to get along with him. Of course, the first thing i'll have to do is make sure he knows that I'm not a spoiled brat. Gods, he can be so stubborn! Yeah, so can I. So what? __

_Muttering as he went back to his room, Harry put the idea under his mental to-do list. He had a full month left before being faced with the volatile wizard, and several books still to read. If nothing else, he could always approach the Slytherin with questions or observations from books not found in the Hogwarts library._

_A satisfied smile touched the corners of his mouth. Yes, that would do quite nicely. And maybe, if he crossed his fingers just right, he would find a way to locate the remaining pieces of Voldemort's splintered soul and send the whole package to hell. Or at least a few new and different ways to annoy the homicidal megalomaniac._

~ * ~

**  
_Pause Flashback_  
**

"Well, that certainly explains why your usual animosity toward Severus is missing," Minerva said, grinning wryly at the two wizards. "However, it is clearly not the most profound piece of information you uncovered."

Somewhat abashed, Harry ducked his head and blushed. "Too right! Sorry, I'm trying to tell this in chronological order." 

The Headmistress waved away his apology. "Don't let my curiosity rush your story."

"Fickle feline," Severus snorted, a gleam of mischief sparkling in his eyes. "I do hope you remember what happens when cats get curious."

A brief squabble between the long-time friends had Harry and Hermione watching with wide eyes. Neither had ever seen their strict (former) Head of House or the mercurial Potions Master _playfully_ baiting each other. 

When several minutes of cheerful bickering passed, and no signs of it ending anytime soon, Harry cleared his throat and continued his recital.

~ * ~

**  
_Resume Flashback_  
**

The next book in the box was an easy-to-read explanation of magical customs, rites, rituals, and societal structure. If he learned nothing new over the rest of his summer holiday, Harry felt his time well spent after having so many little things cleared up. He grabbed a scrap of parchment and scribbled a suggestion for including an introduction to the magical world for all Muggleborn students and their families, then set the book aside.

Standing to stretch, make a trip to the loo, and hunt down a late meal, Harry was shocked to discover how long he had been reading. The horribly ugly grandfather clock (that Aunt Petunia doted over, as a wedding present from Vernon's parents) chimed half eleven as he reached the bottom of the stairs. 

To stay up and read, or to sleep now and pick up in the morning... Maybe just another chapter or two. __

_Comfortably settled, he withdrew the unread texts from the box to choose his next topic._ Theories on the Ethical Choices of Magic, sounds pretty dry actually, but maybe it'll help me fall asleep. _Opening the first page, Harry scanned the book's introduction and was forced to admit how wrong he'd been._ Fascinating! A completely objective view of dark versus light intent. The author doesn't categorize spells, but qualifies their uses. Now why don't they teach this at Hogwarts? So many people get lumped into labels just for being in certain families, or for knowing spells that the Ministry looks down on. Guess it'd be too time-consuming for them to send Aurors out to check for every magical person's intent in each spell cast. __

__

**Theories on the Ethical Choices of Magic ,   
An Introduction: The Balance of Opposing Forces**

The cultures from the Far East have long since known such simple truths of magic: there can be no light without darkness, no good without evil. Nature's balance must be upheld, or humanity will suffer as it strives to level out the impurities. Even Muggles know this, as their quaint saying proves -- Nature abhors a vacuum. It falls to us, as witches and wizards, to protect not only our magical world, but the whole of our planet. We must keep the use of dark magic in check, yes, but we also must prevent light magic from taking full control. This is the most logical theorem of the ethics of magic.

Similarly, in every generation there is born two persons with great magic potential, the beacons for the diametrically opposed aspects of our power. In recent years, these leaders have been given the titles of Dark Lord/Lady and Light Lord/Lady. Although lacking in originality, the titles do justice to their bearers' hold on the general populace. 

A Light Lord/Lady is almost always the genial sort, a person to whom the smallest child or oldest crone would approach for the most trivial matters. In physical appearance, the only common identifier found is a certain 'twinkling' effect that draws people to meet their eyes. Of course, as one of their primary magical talents is the gift of compulsion, one must shield their thoughts when succumbing to this urge. It has been hypothesized that, with the constant use of wholly light magic, the Lord/Lady has more control over invoking the more positive emotions, ie: loyalty, courage, love, devotion, simple pleasures, etc. Historically, most Lords/Ladies have chosen not to use this gift except in times of extreme need -- civil strife, war, and post-war depression; however, should a less honorable person fall into the roll, we can expect significant damage throughout the community.

Like their counterparts, a Dark Lord/Lady's temperament is generally jovial; their very presence is both a comfort and an enticement, drawing out the more complex emotions. Loyalty bound by determination. Courage to extract justice. Love, both innocent and passionate. If the leader of the Light beckons to those of relatively innocent souls, magical persons and creatures with more layered drives feel a call to the Dark Lord/Lady. While there have been exceptions, most often the Dark leader has black or very dark brown hair and is of moderate stature. The single constant in appearance is, again like the Light, found in their eyes: the exact hue varies from one Dark Lord/Lady to the next, but in each case, their eyes were said to have been 'glowing and jewel-toned.' Their most notable talent has no official name; throughout recorded history, every Dark leader has had the ability to draw power from their devoted followers.

(Several paragraphs later) __

_It should be understood that no witch or wizard is required to proclaim allegiance to either side. Truly, it is more advantageous for the magical community if the population maintains its own balance. And yet, that is rarely the case. Until humans as a species have matured far enough to no longer need strong-willed individuals to tell them how to live, such leaders will continue to dominate our society._

__Oh damn, now that Dumbledore's dead, who's taking over the 'other side'? _Harry threw his head back against the wall, several times, in sheer frustration. He quickly read back over the more salient points of the introduction, groaned loudly, and headbutted the wall again._ Great. Most kids receive games or clothes or books for their birthdays, but what do I get? Philosophy of Magic 101, and a million questions that'll take most of the next decade to answer properly. I want to ignore this, but whoever sent all these books has to be making a point, and it's bound to be more important than my piece of mind. But I'm too tired to concentrate on it... whatever I'm supposed to learn can wait til morning. __

_Placing a clean sheet of parchment inside the book as a placemarker, Harry cleared off his bed and turned out the light._

_**End Flashback** _

~ * ~

Silence enveloped the room as Harry came back from his thoughts. A quick glance at his companions almost made him laugh outloud: Hermione's eyes were glazed, her face covered with a rapt expression he'd only seen the month prior to their OWLs. Behind her desk, Minerva looked thoughtful and only a little worried. And Severus... his features were almost relaxed, with a faint glow of vindication around the edges of his normal aura.

That Harry could actually _see_ the professor's aura gave him a moment's pause. His eyes ran over the witches once again, focusing on the fuzzy colored halos outlining their bodies. "Huh, that's new and different."

Eyes blinking back into the present, Hermione turned to her friend. "What's 'new and different'?"

"Uh... I can see... auras, I think." He hadn't intended to say that aloud, and now he keenly felt their full attention focused on him. While recalling his summer's events, it hadn't been as apparent. Or as unnerving. 

A soft snort came from his side. "You say that as if it's the precursor to some earth-shattering revelations." Severus shifted until his whole body was turned toward the flustered Gryffindor. "Harry, many people are capable of aura-vision. That you are considerably younger than the average to have come into this talent is not nearly as surprising as you seem to think. With your naturally high level of power, we fully expect you to exhibit a number of abilities not common among your peers."

Seeing her best friend's somewhat clueless expression, Hermione stepped in to translate, "What Professor Snape means is that it's not unusual for strong witches and wizards to be able to see auras. And you'll probably discover other tricks soon, since aura-vision is usually the first in a long line of talents that can develop after we go through magical maturity."

Cheeks fully flushed, Harry refused to raise his eyes. "Yeah great, another way to be a freak."

A trio of outbursts prevented more self-defamation. "Mr. Potter, you will never again speak of yourself in such a matter!" "Don't say such things, Harry!" "Those blasted Muggles will pay..."


	9. Part Nine

  
Author's notes: And then there was more.  


* * *

**Fortune's Child: Part Nine**

**Pertinent Story Information** (valid for this post only) **:**

**Rating:** PG, and that's mainly for a couple of off-color words.

**Pairing:** Absotively none for this part.

**Warnings:** Hmm... nope, can't think of any.

**Summary:** The plot thickens. And so does the stew.

**Author's Notes for this chapter:** Part of me wants to beg and grovel and apologize for taking so long to post this chapter. But then the other part, the one that's had to deal with doctors and hospitals and sick kids for the past two weeks, bitchslaps the more subservient side back into place. It's been hell these past two weeks, folks. That's the only thing I can say in my own defense. Trying to get back on track now, but you might want to expect further delays until things smooth down again.

~ * ~

**Part Nine**

Stunned green eyes surveyed the Headmistress' office, an almost comically anime-ish expression of disbelief causing his mouth to drop open. It took him a few minutes to collect his thoughts and replay the previous conversation, all the while his companions protested over his offhand manner of proclaiming himself a "freak".

With an exaggerated sheepish look on his face, Harry's quiet voice interrupted the three-way outburst. "Hey, I'm sorry, alright? But honestly, you can't expect that the past six years at Hogwarts will just erase _fifteen_ years worth of being told what sort of abnormal subhuman I am, not even worthy to have the most basic needs fulfilled." Another steady look around the room. "So yeah, I do know they were wrong, but deep down it's going to take alot more than just pretty words to fix the damage, ok?"

Before he'd completed his thought, Harry found himself wrapped in a tight hug. Hermione's tears against his neck felt odd _she's crying... for me?_ and if the expressions on Severus and Minerva's faces were anything to go by, the young witch only barely beat them in her efforts to comfort him.

The Potions Master cleared his throat, eyes meeting his employer's for a brief moment, then offered his own opinion. "Harry, regardless of what those... sub-human degenerates have led you to believe, you are no more abnormal than the rest of us."

"I _know_ , Severus... but knowing and believing aren't always the same."

A heavy sigh. "If I might continue, uninterrupted?" Harry flushed, quickly nodding. "Thank you ever so." Severus' dry tone of haughty sarcasm encouraged a few half-hearted chuckles. "As I was saying. Harry, you are not, nor will ever be, what the common masses will proclaim as _normal_. A wizard with your amount of sheer raw power, coupled by the inherent goodness of your personality, could never been something so mundane as _normal_. The age old argument of nature versus nurture -- are you familiar with this debate?"

Harry shook his head, muttering, "My education wasn't very thorough before coming to Hogwarts, and that isn't a subject that is taught here, is it?"

Jumping in with a ready explanation, Hermione lifted her face from her friend's neck long enough to say, "It's not a new concept, but a Muggle philosopher... about two hundred years ago, I think... got credit for the theory." More in her element, she managed to extract herself and assume her 'lecture' position, one hand on her hip. "It's supposed to answer the question of how much a person's overall personality is formed by genetics versus the way they were raised. There have been thousands of case studies in various areas of the world, but so far the evidence is pretty much balanced in support of either side."

"Just so, Hermione." Severus graced the young woman with a small smile of approval. "In your case, Harry, one might make a very good argument toward nature overriding the so-called _nurture_ of your relatives' dubious care," he sneered out the sentence, then shook his hair out of his face. "But that is a topic for another day. Shall we endeavor to redirect our conversation back to your summer activities?"

While Minerva summoned refreshments and the teens got comfortable on the sofa, Severus walked toward the back of the room. His outward manner was every bit as calm and uncaring as he could manage, but inwardly he seethed at such careless disregard for any child's welfare as was evident from his student's blase` attitude of his own self-worth. Finally, he felt himself calmed enough to rejoin the group, catching the Headmistress' eye as he sank into his preferred chair. The gleam of rage and retribution he saw, so briefly he almost assumed it to be a figment of his imagination, spoke volumes of how far the Scot would go to protect 'her young'. A minute bow of his head acknowledged her feelings. After the young people left, they would discuss how best to deal with the situation.

"Right then, I had just read the preface to Theories on the Ethical Choices of Magic and gone to bed?" Waiting for a chorus of agreement, Harry's eyes lost focus as he drifted back once more.

~ * ~

_  
**Flashback to August 1st**  
_

_He woke to early morning sunshine and the cheerful noise of chirping birds outside his bedroom window. The previous day's concerns flew through his mind, but he quickly recalled the lack of Dursleys to worry about. He happily indulged in a full body stretch, lazily rolling around in bed for several minutes before nature's call dragged him out of his comfortable nest._

__Alright, last night's book explained the balance of magics, and obviously Dumbledore was the Light Lord. But now that he's dead... is his replacement a baby, or maybe someone older tagged to take over? Oh bugger! How am I supposed to figure all this out, without being able to write Ron and Hermione?

_A hot shower and filling breakfast later, Harry brought a cool drink with him and resumed his position on the bed, chest opened in front of him. With his mother's journal and the treatise on magical ethics out, two more books had taken their place overnight. Rolling his eyes at the thought that he'd be reading for the rest of summer hols, he retrieved the top book to investigate._

__Well, here's something that won't ever be taught at Hogwarts. _Covered in deep brown dragonhide, the tome was obviously old and well-preserved, probably a family heirloom of some sort._ But whose family? I really want to know who my mysterious benefactor is. _Burned into the hide by magefire was a single word: Shadowside. _Oh, that's descriptive. _He snorted aloud, but opened the book to page one._

__

** Shadowside **

A comprehensive study of magical history will show how often our world is subjected to the reign of a Lord or Lady, their impact on our way of life, and our ongoing struggle to balance the opposing forces in ourselves. The purpose of this text is not to validate or refute such ideals, but rather to explore possible methods of achieving a much-needed equilibrium in our culture between the Light and Dark aspects in every one of us...

~ * ~

_Closing the book softly, Harry placed it on his bedside table and got up to stretch. He blinked to refocus his eyes, only then noticing how long the shadows had gotten in his room._ Gods, how long was I reading?! _He slid down the stairs, glancing at Aunt Petunia's hideous grandfather clock on his way past._ Well, at least there's no one here but me to make dinner for... it's after seven already. Didn't realize I'd been at it so long.

_He fixed a quick meal of sandwiches and juice, checked the mail, and brought his food out to the back yard. The Dursleys were creatures of comfort, no matter how hard they aimed for normality. Every functional piece of furniture (as opposed to antiques placed strategically for show) was plump and stuffed for maximum comfort. Even their outdoor furniture, as Harry was pleased to rediscover. He plopped down onto Vernon's preferred lawn chair and nibbled a roast beef sandwich as he considered the book he'd just read._

__"In all the myriad spells created by magical beings, none can be firmly classified as either Light or Dark." That's hard to believe, but... not. I guess that even a simple levitation spell could be Dark if used to drop something heavy on someone. But then why are there so many laws prohibiting certain spells? Or entire areas of magic? I find it hard to believe that the Ministry banned spells that were just too difficult for most people to use. It can't be so simple. Can it?

_Harry reached for his plate, somewhat surprised to find it empty. He couldn't remember eating more than a few bites, so lost in thought. With a shrug, he dusted off the crumbs from his hands and clothes, gathered plate and glass, and went back inside still thoroughly distracted by his latest reading._

__Actually, it does make a certain amount of sense. I'll have to look into past Ministers for confirmation, but if they were anything like Fudge... yeah, so maybe they _did_ create laws to discourage people from using spells that were beyond an average witch or wizard's capabilities. Merlin, that's just _wrong_!

_He so desperately wanted to write his friends, to get their opinions and ask some of his most burning questions. But of course, he couldn't. Even writing to one of his professors was a bad idea, with the restrictions in place for 'safety's sake'. Exasperated, Harry went back to his room and started writing down every question or point of concern from the books he'd read so far, then made a copy of the list._

__I'm still not sure I should trust whoever sent this chest to me, but they did say I could ask questions. And if that's the only way to get answers for now... it's better than being so very frustrated until next term begins.

_The sun had just dipped below the horizon when Harry set down his quill. His list wasn't as long as he'd half-expected, but it would probably keep his questionable benefactor busy for a little while._

__To whoever is on the other side:

You said I could ask questions, and I've got more than a few ready. And yes, I know you said to ask into the lid of the box, but this is a fairly long list. I'm hoping that, if I write them all down and place them inside the box, you'll get the parchment and can take your time replying to my questions.

_Clearing his throat, he placed his message inside the box and spoke directly into the chest's lid, feeling just a bit foolish._

_"Hi there, whoever's receiving this. Your instructions were clear enough, but... yeah, I feel like a right idiot talking to a wooden box, mate. So anyway, I'm sending a piece of parchment through and hoping you'll get it. Makes more sense to write down everything instead of waiting several days in between a bunch of smaller questions. Hope you're ready and willing, like you said you'd be. Right. Thanks, I guess... for... whatever reasons you're doing this. Guess I'll wait around for your answers."_

_Closing the chest, he placed it on his bedside table. Harry had often felt a bit stupid around magical artifacts, as no one had ever explained to him how they worked, but he was determined not to worry too much. Just yet. The niggling suspicion that he was being played by one of the hundreds of people who wanted to do him harm wouldn't go away, no matter how benign his instincts told him the gift was._

__Enough of this. There's no sense in sitting around, waiting for something that might or might not even happen, and making myself sick over what may be a tremendous mistake. Now shape up, Harry, and go take a long steamy bath. Finish up your Potions homework even. And maybe, if you can stop second guessing every word you read, take another look at that Shadowside book.

**_Pause Flashback_ **

~ * ~

His tea was cold, making Harry grimace and tap his wand to the cup to reheat it. The polite silence of his companions made him almost as nervous as when he'd been forced up on the dueling stage in second year. Hermione, bless her consistency, looked thoughtful and somewhat jealous about his extra-curricular reading. Minerva's expression was harder to identify, but appeared more contemplative than concerned. A quick glance to his right showed Severus in deep thought. That he too failed to seem worried made Harry's apprehension level decrease dramatically.

"Right. Those two books, Shadowside and Theories on the Ethical Choices of Magic, are definitely the most interesting ones I read this summer. And I can easily see where the Ministry would deem them 'subversive' in nature, since they question or outright ridicule most of the laws against entire classes of spells." He ducked his head, burying it in his teacup before continuing, "Soul magic. Blood magic. Sex magic. Inter-species magic. There's nothing inherently _wrong_ about any of them -- it's the intent of the caster that matters." 

Lifting his eyes to meet each of his companions', Harry braced himself for some sign of condemnation. Or worse, pity that he'd misunderstood or been mislead again. Neither occurred. Three sets of eyes rested on him, without the weight of disapproval, each waiting on him to finish. "Did I... understand it right?"

A soft hand removed his empty cup and placed it on the table, then gently entwined slim fingers with his own. "Harry, remember that I wasn't raised in the magical world either, so my opinion might not be the same as a pureblood's. The way my parents brought me up was to believe that any knowledge, whatever the subject, was not _bad_ unless we warp it into something that could hurt other people. Now maybe that's not the way things work in the magical world -- I'm fairly certain it isn't, from what we've learned in History of Magic -- but if you're looking for me to scold you just for questioning the status quo, well, you're going to be waiting a good long time."

He gave Hermione a small smile of thanks, but his attention was quickly diverted.

"What Ms. Granger says is true in almost every way. Our world has long been set on its path of prudish dictates, with the Ministry giving in to popular opinions of its weak-minded constituents." The relaxed Severus was gone, replaced once more by Professor Snape's stern persona. "More than half of the magical community fears change, is terrified of things they cannot control or use to their own purposes. And yet, instead of learning to adapt, they prefer to coast along with comfortable ease, performing only those spells which are relatively simple. If an incantation is too complex, it is looked upon with suspicion, and may soon find itself on the list of prohibited magic. For that matter, consider how the average person views potion-making."

"Yes, yes, Severus," Minerva interrupted her friend. You are seconds away from that same, tired rant. Not that I don't personally agree with you, but perhaps this is not the best time to bring it up." The older wizard opened his mouth to reply, then just as quickly shut it, nodding agreement with a scowl on his face.

Both teens watched their elders with growing amusement. They had been told, of course, that so much of the images projected by both professors was inaccurate. But to see the stern Headmistress and feared Potions Master bickering like two long-time friends? Harry felt an ache in his heart ease just from watching the friendly banter.

"Harry..." Hermione's voice had that thoughtful, half-there timbre that generally meant hours in the library in the very near future, "Just how much of those spell classes that you named have you actually _learned_? From the way you were talking, it sounded as if you'd had the chance to study a bit of each." She raised one eyebrow and waited, knowing that he would soon cave in to her demand for answers. After all, she had been training him for years to do just that, even if she didn't recognize her own actions until her mother pointed it out at Kings Cross when she witnessed the trio's interactions last June.

True to form, Harry's face took on a rosy tint, his chin almost touching his chest in the hopes that his hair would hide the fact. "Uh... a bit."

"Oh really, Harry." She elbowed him in the side, forcing him to face her for just a moment. "Don't make me interrogate you," her sweetest tone contrasted with the very visible threat lurking in her eyes.

Severus snickered as he watched the Know-It-All browbeat everyone's Golden Boy into submission, then promptly forced himself _not_ to continue along that line of thought. "Indeed, Mr. Potter, perhaps you should divulge the extent of your unlawful activities so we might better prepare your defense, as the Ministry is sure to catch up with you at some point in the next fifty years."

"Fifty? Oh Severus, I think you give our government too much credit. It will surely take at least twice as long for them to process the perceived infractions, in triplicate, and locate the required number of Aurors who are unafraid of Mr. Potter's level of power." The twinkle must surely come with the position of Head of Hogwarts, for with each teasing word, Minerva's hazel eyes sparkled merrily at her co-worker.

Before they could leap into an old (but still apparently entertaining) fight, Harry decided to answer his friend's question. "Yeah, so... My story's not going to be in order anymore, if you really want to hear _now_ about all the spells I studied this summer. Soul magic, Blood magic, Sex magic, Inter-species magic, a few types of Healing magics too... and alot more, but I think the rest are just offshoots of the others. Gods, are you sure I can't just finish in order?"

"Perhaps an overview, Harry. I'm sure Hermione's curiosity can be assuaged with a general outline." 

Unhappily accepting that she would just have to wait, Hermione nodded and kept her mouth shut, but her expression promised dire consequences if Harry didn't eventually get around to answering _all_ questions.

"Right then, moving along."

~ * ~

**  
_Resume Flashback_  
**

Feeling much refreshed for his relaxing bath, Harry didn't stay awake much longer. He spent a few minutes carefully erecting his Occlumency barriers, then drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

For the second day in a row, the early morning sunlight woke him. Harry didn't bother questioning his luck over this uncomplicated schedule -- with the Dursleys gone, it almost felt as if he were out on his own, making whatever rules and exceptions suited best for his life. He ate a filling breakfast, cleaned up after himself, and tidied the few things he'd managed to displace downstairs during the previous few days. Only after he returned to his room did he allow himself to consider what answers might wait for him beneath the seemingly innocent surface of that heartwood chest.

Nothing's managed to kill me so far, _he thought mockingly._

_It only took a few small movements to place the box on his lap, flip the latch, and open the lid. At first glance, the interior looked just as it had the previous night, causing him to nearly moan in disappointment. But then he saw it. A slightly shimmering glow on the parchment of questions he'd left for the unknown gift-giver. Harry's hands trembled just a tiny bit as he carefully took the paper out of the chest, laying both on the bed beside him._

__Alright, am I really ready for this? If -- and it's a really big **if** right now -- the person who sent all this is not out to kill me, then it can't hurt. And such a simple messaging charm isn't Dark. If I can trust the journal to actually be my mother's real words. Oh suck it up, Harry! Nothing bad has happened. Yet.

_Dear Harry,_

_I was so glad to hear from you. After the rather unorthodox method of delivery, I was not certain if you would permit me the chance to correspond with you. Please rest assured that I mean you no harm. Unfortunately, at this time I am unable to truthfully identify myself, or explain my interest in your well being beyond what has already been said. Soon enough you will know my name, and at that time will most probably have even more questions and recriminations to pose to me._

_For now, let us address the matter of your reading, shall we?_

_1.) Both texts of which you speak are real, and were, at one time, standard material for all third, fourth and sixth years at Hogwarts. I am unclear as to the reasons for their present disuse, although I do have a theory or two along those lines ~~ a topic for another day. If you choose to investigate, I believe that the syllabus can still be located in the school library. Check under the course name "Magic: Ethics and Practice", around twenty years ago._

_2.) Yes, I can provide a copy of the Ministry's current list of banned spells and spell groups, as well as the formal reasons for said restrictions. May I also offer you a series of transcripts covering the public debates of the more controversial topics? You will undoubtedly have to wade through a sea of bureaucratic nonsense and legalese, but you might also catch the subliminal meanings from each person's words. They're quite good for a laugh, if nothing else._

_3.) Definitions (at least you've narrowed down your list, thank you!):_

_**Soul Magic** involves the spells, potions, rituals, and other acts of voluntary magic which can in any way influence a person's spirit. Please bear in mind that spirit, soul and magic are virtually interchangeable in many spells of this category. Also note: acts of  voluntary magic. Regardless of whom the caster is, the targeted soul is the only one with the power to accept or deny this form of magic. I believe that to be the reason for the Ministry's laws against this class -- they could not be in full control._

_**Blood Magic** is any spell, potion, ritual or other act of magic (involuntary or not) which utilizes a person's blood as either the basis or a lesser component. This class of magic is much more likely to fall under the Darker aspects, simply because the blood 'donor' need not consciously agree to its use. I should add at this point that blood freely and willingly given is much more potent. There are numerous healing spells and potions which have been banned for their use of blood, by the way. What does this say about our lawmakers?_

_**Sex Magic** is just that: a magical act and/or ritual that requires a sexual component. Why was this class ever made illegal? The best I can offer is that, from time to time, our community has been run by prudes who refuse to acknowledge sexual congress as anything other than an act of procreation. For that matter, I have yet to hear about any branch of Sex magic that could possibly be used with Dark intent. Before you have time to wonder: rape is an act of violence, and therefore cannot be used in Sex magic._

_It might very well take all summer to explain **Inter-species Magic** properly. If you will allow me to give a blanket definition for now, I promise to return to the subject at a later date. Inter-species magic requires a human witch or wizard to work in tandem with a non-human, sentient magical being. Almost every type of magical creature has its own brand of magic, which can then be woven into our own. This too is completely voluntary, but considering the Ministry's laws on non-humans... are you surprised that they outlawed it?_

_**Assorted Healing Magics** \-- Ah, this list could go on forever. Empathic Healing, Psychometric Cleansing, many different Purification spells and rites, and a whole class of rituals to create personal bonds between more than two people. Yes, the spell Voldemort uses to create his Dark Mark falls under that last category, but so does the soul-bond to 'marry' (for lack of a better term) three or more people. _

_Remember, Harry, that almost every form of magic can be perverted into something evil. The intent of the caster and the acceptance of the recipient matter more than the class of spell being used. We'll come back to these later, hmm? The study of spell classes is a fascinating endeavor, and one I think you'll enjoy._

_4.) You have a number of rather personal questions listed. It is with much apology that I decline answering them at this time. And after I remove this stick from my arse, let me try again: any questions about your parents, the decisions concerning school and guardians, and whatever relationship you and I might share must wait until such time as I can reveal myself fully._

_5.) My occupation falls under the same restrictions as the above personal questions, but I do feel free to share this much with you. Well over 75% of my yearly spellwork is considered 'perfectly legal'; the rest falls along the boarders, but is entirely consensual for all parties involved. Am I qualified to act as your instructor? I feel as if I am, however it is your decision to make._

_6.) I cannot shed any light on the matter of Albus Dumbledore's death. Not only was I not present, I have had little contact with anyone at Hogwarts in over a decade. If you find yourself in need of someone with whom to speak about your traumatic experiences, rest assured that I will always listen. It may be that there is little I can do to alleviate the problem, but know that I will at least be able to provide a sympathetic ear._

_And now that I have some idea of your areas of interest, I have included 'beginners' level books covering the various classes of magic. My first message to you was a promise: anything you wish to learn, I will make every effort to provide information and advice._

_Until next time, my friend._

_**End Flashback** _

~ * ~

"... and the books were right where they were supposed to be, so I got started. I can't imagine having classes here at Hogwarts to cover Sex or Blood magic, but after as much reading as I've done so far, I can't quite understand why the Ministry banned their use. Other than what the letter said about politics and levels of power and all."

A hot cup of tea was placed in his hand, and Harry gratefully sipped at it to soothe his sensitive throat. Maybe he should put a time limit on these little chats, because surely his vocal chords weren't used to so much activity crammed into one hour chunks.

The clearing of someone else's throat caught his attention and drew it back to present. "Harry, I agree with your mystery person, in theory, about the Ministry's arbitrary lawmaking and the bad reputation that various classifications of magic has been given as a result. However, I pray that you are not placing too much faith in this unknown witch or wizard-"

"Witch. Sir."

Thrown offtrack, Severus focused fully on his student, waiting patiently for Harry to look directly at him. "What makes you think it is a woman, Potter?"

Harry chuckled softly, a rusty sound. "Because I'm pretty sure I know who it is, now."

Even as the Potions Master drew breath to interrogate, Minerva spoke up, "With so little information at your disposal, how on earth could you logically suspect _anyone_?"

Having so much attention directly on him was not unusual, not with being the Boy-Who-Lived, but that these three specific people were staring at him expectantly... made Harry more than a little nervous. Still and well, he was more certain now than when he'd first encountered the most telling piece of information.

"I'm nearly positive I know who it is, from things she's said, from which subjects she writes about with more enthusiasm, from things she outright refuses to say." And yes, all ears perked up. He wanted to laugh, but was afraid of how much nervous tension he'd expel in doing so. "I believe that the sender is Bronwen Mallory."


	10. Part Ten

  
Author's notes: Finishing out Harry's summer 'report', and a chat with Severus.  


* * *

**Fortune's Child: Part Ten**

**Pertinent Story Information** (valid for this post only) **:**

**Rating:** Let's call it PG-13 for this one.

**Pairing:** HP/SS, mention of HP/HG.

**Warnings:** Follow the bouncing ball -- an overture to slashy goodness, and just a little UST.

**Summary:** Finishing out Harry's summer 'report', and a chat with Severus.

**Author's Notes:** Took forever for the infection to go away... It's still painful to be in one position for long (sit or stand or walk or lay down), but at least I can concentrate enough to try a few chapters. *cough* Any one of you writers out there who've noticed how, when you have a pretty firm idea in what direction you want a chapter to go, but there's lotsa dialog involved, the plot twists in ways you didn't expect it to do? That's what happened here. I'll try to get it back on track... but maybe my subconscious is telling me something. We'll have to see.

~ * ~

**Part Ten**

Severus' eyes flickered quickly toward his employer, who had an expression of deep thought on her face. He shifted his gaze back to the students and wondered exactly how much was wise to tell at that point.

"I'm afraid there is little light to be shed on this subject, Harry. At least for now." Minerva stepped in after a moment, effectively answering Severus' unspoken question. When both teens made to protest, she raised a hand for silence. "My reticence in relaying information about Mrs. Mallory has nothing to do with your position, Harry. In all honesty, I am surprised to be able to speak her name at all... The conditions of her-" A pinched look crossed her face, and she tried again. "For the past dozen years, a certain spell has been used to maintain utmost secrecy in regards to said witch and her immediate family. I do apologize, Harry, but that truly is the most information I can give at this time."

He'd expected as much, but that didn't prevent a rush of disappointment to wash through him. With a sigh, Harry flopped back in his seat and ran a hand over his mussed hair. "Story of my life, eh?"

There was only so much self-pity that a person should be permitted to evidence. In cases such as these, diversionary tactics were called for. "Mr. Potter, if you are quite through feeling sorry for yourself, I believe that we have much to discuss, as well as continuing your report from this summer."

The cool tone of his professor came back, overriding Harry's bleak mood. How Severus knew he needed grounding was anyone's guess, although it did cement the subconscious idea of his dreams, the triad... But that topic should probably wait until later.

"Right then, what else? Questions, comments, observations -- all welcome about now." And he didn't miss the twitch of Hermione's hand, as if it wanted to shoot into the air.

She grinned at him, knowing she'd been caught out. "I for one would love to see those books." A pause while the other occupants of the room snickered at her predictability. "Yes yes, laugh all you like. There is nothing wrong with the search for more information." 

Harry was still chuckling under his breath, but the two professors nodded their approval. She felt amply justified in smacking her friend across the back of the head.

"Ow, 'Mione, that's just mean!" He made a big production out of rubbing the injured area while Minerva refreshed their cups. "Anyways, yeah, I'll let you look through most of the books. Maybe you can see a pattern or something in what she's sending me. Not that it isn't fairly obvious, but I get the impression that there's more to it than simply rounding out my magical education..." Harry smirked at himself, glancing toward Hermione to add one last comment, "Sure you've seen the t-shirt: The subtext is rapidly becoming text. I think that's what we need to look for. And you and Severus are much more likely to catch that sort of thing than me."

The Headmistress coughed politely, her eyebrow raised at his omission.

"My apologies, Minerva. I didn't mean to exclude you... it's just that these two are nitpickers for those tiny details that drive me to distraction. And you seem to be more upfront with what you expect -- present the facts in one meaty synopsis, and the rest is just gravy."

"I shall accept that qualification, Harry. And you are correct for the most part. When offered a choice between reams of fluffed literature and a straightforward, concise text, I will chose the latter on any given day." She winked over her teacup at him. "However, we must agree that any additional snippets of information can only be of benefit to us at this point."

Nodding his head in thought, Harry's eyes glazed over for a moment before saying, "Y'know, maybe it would be easier for me to simply bring the lot of them here for everyone to look through. I can pretty much sum up the rest of my summer by a little show-and-tell. Since the Dursleys didn't come home until two days before term started, I had plenty of time to read and practice spells. And thank Merlin that most of the texts took a hands-on approach! Otherwise my attention would have been lost pretty fast."

Severus snorted. Hermione snickered. Minerva coughed politely behind her hand.

"And let's all gang up on me. I see how you are." He sniffed dramatically, throwing an arm over his face in mock shame.

As well as his spectators knew him, Harry's little slip into acting had mixed results. Each felt that he was trying too hard to cover up his reactions to recent events with humor and overcompensation, but they weren't willing to break the easy banter just yet to address the more serious undertones of his words.

~ * ~

After a light snack and chat over more comfortable subjects, it was decided to take a trip through Harry's new quarters. In the Headmistress' own words: "This is my school now, Mr. Potter. I believe I have the right to inspect every room in the castle, regardless of how it came into being or who resides within."

Her vote was quickly supported by the duo of bibliophiles. Where the books were, they wanted to be. Harry gave in with reasonably good grace and led them down to his rooms. A short conversation with Hestia gave them all admittance (but with the original restrictions in place, for now), and Harry offered the two knut tour. He explained what he'd asked of the castle, his state of mind at the time, and listed most of the extras he'd wanted. If a couple of ... shadier facts were left out, well, he'd learned the hard way not to trust the complete story to anyone. Not even his closest friends and confidants.

"That's about it. And yes, Severus and Hermione, you may pilfer my stash now." One black and two brown eyebrows raised at his phrasing, causing Harry to flush a brilliant crimson. "Wow, that did sound sorta perverse, didn't it..."

Hermione had quite a bit more information than the other two on the reason for Harry's deep blush, and decided to hold her teasing until they were alone. Of course, that left him at the tender mercies of two people vastly experienced with interrogating wayward teens. And she almost felt bad about throwing him to the wolves (or in this case, the snake and cat). Almost. Naaaah!

Opting to forgo the all-too-easy torment of her favorite student, Minerva returned her attention to the respectably sized library. After having heard a bit about banned Healing magics, she was more interested in reading Blood Magic in the Healing Arts: A Compilation than in pursuing a topic that crossed the lines of propriety. _Alright, if I'm honest, it will be vastly more amusing to allow him to dig his own grave. That he can provide the entertainment while I read is simply a bonus._

Severus had no such qualms. There had been something off about Harry -- moreso than normal -- since the _dream_ he had experienced while passed out in the older man's arms. Just that evening, hadn't the young man said that there was something he wished to discuss, hinting at a sensitive subject? Now here they were, witness to Harry's terminal embarrassment over a minor innuendo. Ah, such possibilities.

He glided over to the corner in which his target had taken refuge, well away from the researching witches, and waited for Harry's eyes to meet his. The stubborn prat took his time about it, but finally their gazes met. Severus' eyes never sparkled or twinkled like the late Albus Dumbledore's -- they glowed with an inner fire, the intensity dependent on whether amusement or anger was at play. Harry felt a shiver begin at the base of his spine, working its way up to his scalp before heading back down to congeal in his groin. A fact that the ever-observant spy took careful note of.

"Is there something you would like to tell me, Harry?" His words warm and husky, he took great pleasure in the youth's full body reaction to his voice. "One might assume that this has to do with what you wished to discuss, hmm?" Severus leaned toward his prey to whisper directly into Harry's ear. "You might offer the ladies a few books, send them off to their respective chambers. Although... I am not convinced that you are prepared to be pilfered at this point. Or have you designs toward your nasty professor, as such a delightful blush suggests?"

Flashes of his dreams echoed behind his eyes. Harry's breathing sped up, his pulse raced, his vision swam. And even while he suspected the professor of playing games, he couldn't resist leaning just a bit closer to the inviting heat of the man.

Severus' eyes widened for a moment at the gesture. He hadn't expected such a reaction, but it seemed that he had come close to the truth with his mild taunts. "Be a good host, Mr. Potter. Make your offer of loaning out the texts on which they are currently fixated, and say your goodnights. This latest development requires some privacy, does it not?"

~ * ~

Across the room, Hermione was in heaven. Shelf after shelf of books on subjects that were rarely made available to students, and almost as hard to come by in 'respectable' booksellers. She kept half an eye on her friend as she snagged the first dozen texts to pique her interest. One would hardly need an Extendable Ear to know that whatever the subject of the wizards' quite conversation, it had brought a few fascinating reactions from her best friend. And with her inside knowledge of his recent dreams, she could make a fair guess as to how the evening would end. She grabbed two more books, then headed toward the Headmistress.

"Minerva, I'm going to head back to my room in a few minutes. This lot should keep me occupied for a day or two." Hermione watched the older woman's swift glance across the room, and she lowered her voice to add, "Harry has a few things that need to be said to Severus, in private. I believe we will be asked to leave shortly."

"Mmm, so it would seem." Thoughtfully, Minerva traced the emblem on the bookcover in her hands. She knew Severus well enough after all these years, and had caught hints at the new flavor of underlying tension between her boys. It was almost a pity that Hermione was to be left out, but what could she do? At least there were no school policies against relationships between persons over the legal age of consent that might cause her to interfere. "Then it might be prudent of us to make a graceful exit. I expect we shall be permitted to borrow a few of these."

_Never underestimate the manipulative potential in a matchmaking female,_ Hermione thought with a smirk. "If Harry knows what's good for him, he'll let us borrow whatever books we like for as long as we like." To ask and confirm her suspicions, or to stay silent until further information is made available... _Bugger it, I'm a Gryffindor!_ "This won't cause problems for you, will it Minerva?"

A slight inclination of her head was the only response for several seconds. "Thank you for asking, but no, not inasmuch as the identities of the pair in question. But perhaps we should not speak of this with the subjects so near by. Would you care for a late tea in my quarters? The privacy of our conversation would be best guarded there."

A most reasonable suggestion, and one Hermione would hardly turn down. She rarely had the benefit of a female friend with whom to talk about the more emotional subjects; that her former Head of House was offering such respite was something of a surprise, but a welcomed one. "I would like that very much, thank you. Let's tell the menfolk goodnight then."

~ * ~

Harry couldn't drag his eyes away from Severus' intoxicating stare. He knew he should get rid of the women, or at least rejoin them -- as the sole resident of these rooms, he should take more responsibility for... something. He was having a hard time thinking beyond the mesmerizing black gaze that seemed to draw him in and latch on with claws and fangs. Unlike the flashfire passion he'd felt with Hermione earlier that day, this attraction to the older wizard made him wish to lower all his barriers, to let someone else carry the burdens for awhile. He craved the freedom to do so, and that feeling both terrified and exhilarated him.

Before he managed to break through his meandering thoughts, a soft hand touched his face and made his brain jolt back to the present.

"Harry, Minerva and I are a bit tired. If it's alright with you, we would like to borrow a handful of books to read over the next few days," Hermione said with a grin. 

One look at her face had him convinced that she knew exactly what the problem was, and was determined to leave him alone to come clean about his recent intuitive dreams. Harry gave her a strong hug and kissed the side of her neck, then went over to hug Minerva as well before showing them to the door. Their goodnights were quick and overly cheerful, letting him know that both witches knew something about what was going on between him and Severus.

Out of the corner of his eye, the Potions Master's smirk was barely visible. Still there, but only a glimmer. Which seemed to mean that he was trying really hard not to laugh about something. The old Harry wanted to bristle over being the target, once again, to the greasy git's sadistic humor. The new Harry wanted to... do alot more pleasurable things with said git. He nearly choked on trying to stifle the moan caused by that train of thought.

The distinctive scent of herbs and slightly scorched cloth (that he'd come to identify as Severus' personal aroma) enveloped him only a moment before he felt the heat of Severus' body across his back. His portrait door finally closed with a solid click, but before he could speak or even turn around, two strong arms reached out in invitation. Harry fell into the proffered embrace without hesitation. He could explain about his recurring dream later; for now, all he wanted was to be free to let someone else take the lead.

Severus enfolded him carefully, sensing how much it had cost to acknowledge the need to accept such a gesture. He gently moved them toward the nearest couch and arranged the young man comfortably across his lap. Rocking Harry softly, he said in a low voice, "There is no shame in wanting or allowing comfort, Harry. I suspect that you have had precious little offered in your lifetime. A shortcoming we must rectify, yes?"

Such a short time ago, the atmosphere between them had been charged with sexual tension. Now, however, Harry found himself close to tears. _How can he make me feel so strongly in so many different ways? All I want to do right now is sob like a homesick firstie._

He didn't need to use Leglimency to understand how worn and fragile Harry was feeling. Granted, Severus rarely found himself in this position outside of comforting his youngest Slytherins, but it would seem that no one had ever provided a solid shoulder on which to lean for the Boy-Who-Lived. Add to that the fact that no one in their world looked beyond the title, leaving just Harry to fend for himself. 

Severus was hardly a philanthropist -- offering anything for free scraped against his nerves like fingernails down a blackboard. He admitted, very privately, that he wanted this alluringly powerful young man to give over control to him. Most surprising, not to mention gratifying to his ego, Harry seemed to want the same thing. As they were in silent agreement, why shouldn't an effort be made to explore the intriguing possibilities?

A softly muttered comment was lost deep in his robes. He cupped the teen's face, shuffling them just enough to let him hear plainly. Harry grumbled a half-hearted protest, his eyes never lifting from their close inspection of the weave of Severus' outer robe.

"Please repeat what you just said, Harry," he gently commanded.

Taking a deep breath of courage, Harry stuttered out, "I... I've had dreams lately, and you were in them, and it felt alot like this." No ridicule came his way, and he found the strength to offer more details. "All my life I've had dreams kinda like this, not about sex, but what 'Mione calls intuitive. Dreams that lead me where I'm supposed to be, or do or whatever. Well, these started just after coming back here. At first it was me and... a woman, then me and a man, then all of us together. I didn't recognize them right off, but little hints kept coming back. The texture of hair or tone of voice, hand movements and stuff." He paused and prayed to be able to say the rest without combusting in embarrassment. "It was you, Severus. You and Hermione."

Somehow he had expected it, as evidenced by the lack of shock Severus felt on hearing the young man's confession. A long-ignored section of his mind (better known as EveryMan's raging libido) stood up and cheered. But one look at the torn expression on Harry's face forced him to tread carefully. "Have you spoken with Ms. Granger about these dreams?"

A jerky nod. "Yeah, she caught me talking to myself this morning. And it's sorta funny, she has no objections... to at least try, I mean. Always thought she and Ron were a matched set, but he's been dating other people and just stringing her along and maybe she's tired of that. Probably the only way I'd stand a chance..."

"That's enough, Mr. Potter!" He had to break up the beginnings of yet another bout of self-loathing, and his teaching voice worked nicely. "Mr. Weasley has nothing to offer than you yourself do not posses in greater quantity. I cannot fathom any intelligent witch, as Ms. Granger most surely is, allowing her partner such boorish behavior. If she says she is willing, then by the gods, don't maul your chances by giving her reason to doubt her own decision!"

_Makes sense, shoulda thought of that myself... I've known her six years, know how she is, how she hates being played. She knows what Ron is up to, and now she's got an option other than being alone. Maybe that's why she put up with it?_

Severus felt he had more than the average amount of patience as a rule; a point in fact was his first love -- the exacting science of potions was based on the concept of "hurry up and wait". And while he was far from certain about the veracity of Harry's _intuitive_ dreams, he definitely wanted to explore his side of the proposed triangle. _Pity that the lovely Hermione ran off so soon. Of course, Minerva would hardly have left us alone with the young witch... or would she? Must remember to have a little talk with a certain cat later._

Secrets spilled but not rejected outright, Harry's confidence began to rebuild itself. That first wonderfully stunning kiss with Hermione had almost seemed an accident, not that it wasn't one for the books. But with Severus, a mature wizard who surely had years of experience under his belt, Harry wanted there to be no doubt of his intentions. His eyes lifted to seek Severus', then flick down again, telegraphing his desire to taste the older man's mouth. Harry felt his tongue sneak out and wet his own lips, without conscious thought directing the provocative movement.

A low growl escaped before Severus caught himself, the immediate side effect from watching Harry's natural sensuality take over. He kept his eyes locked on the younger man's to catch any sign of distress (or worse, disgust), then lowered his head to capture those tempting lips. At first impact, both men moaned deep in their throats. With nothing but the briefest contact, the gentle slide of mouth to mouth was electric, energizing, charged with all the volatile emotions that had consistently lay between them over the past six years. He could so easily lose his soul to such a feeling -- a prospect that should terrify the intensely private man, yet only caused thrilling streaks of arousal throughout his being.

Some small section of Harry's brain (that had yet to catch up with his libido) insisted on comparing notes. Hermione's lips were full and soft; Severus' were firm and commanding. Hermione's body was soft and rounded in all the right spots; Severus' was... firm and commanding. Hermione was an equal and active participant; Severus instinctively led the way, allowing his target free reign while maintaining full control. Harry acknowledged the comments, likewise acknowledged his severe lack of adequate vocabulary in this area, and promptly closed the door on the prissy voice. He didn't want his attention diverted from the glorious sensations provided by his prospective... lover. _Oh, wow... Severus Snape, prospective lover. No one will believe this. No one but the four of us, at any rate. And maybe that's for the best for now. Gods, can't imagine having them both at the same time... it'll fry my brain, short circuit my dick with overloaded nerve endings. But what a way to go!_

_He tastes like sunlight and honey, and those jelly-filled biscuits from supper... Must be natural talent as well, considering his lack of companionship. Oh what I'd love to teach this boy -- no, this man -- about the wonderful magic that is lovemaking. Careful, Severus! Don't let yourself fall in too deep before you know how far he's willing to go._ Internal pep talk duly noted, Severus shoved aside his higher brain functions in favor of itemizing each delightful gasp, moan and touch coming from the responsive body in his arms. There would be plenty of time to ask the multitude of soul-searching questions that were bound to spring from this situation. Later. Much, much later. As any Slytherin worthy of his House knew, one must take advantage of what was offered in the present, and leave remonitions to the guilt-laden Gryffindors. Which was the fly in this particular ointment: both the cuddlesome wizard in his lap and the young lady who could well be joining them were from the House of Guilt. Once more, he pushed such thoughts away. _It was Harry who initiated this scenario, and per his earlier admission, Ms. Granger is not adverse to exploring the possibilities. I must allow them to move at their own pace, naturally, but this does not prevent me from enjoying what is so eagerly offered._

**To Be Continued...**

**  
_AN2:_  
** I'll try to have chapter 11 of this one, and chapter 4 of Delusions, later up today or tomorrow... just working through the rough spots right now. If not by tomorrow, it'll have to wait til Monday -- weekends are hell around here for writing. 


	11. Part Eleven

  
Author's notes: The morning after, and bringing it all together.  


* * *

**Fortune's Child : Part Eleven**

**Pertinent Story Information** (valid for this post only) **:**

**Rating:** Woah, this was only supposed to be a transitional chapter, but it went *cough* straight to NC-17.

**Pairing:** Harry/Severus/Hermione

**Warnings:** Here there be slash _and_ het, and the triad begins. If any of this is not to your liking... whatinhell are you doing reading this story? Mutual handjobs, frottage, and cunnilingus ahead.

**Summary:** The morning after, and bringing it all together.

**Author's Notes:** Texas weather is so incredibly odd. I've lived here all my life, and I've never gotten used to it. Since Saturday night, it's been the same pattern -- midnight to 5am, electrical storm and heavy rain; 5am to noon, cloudy and humid; noon to 10pm, perfectly clear blue skies; 10pm to midnight, lightly scattered clouds. Rinse and repeat.

Now what this means is that I haven't been able to mow the lawn, wash the van and truck, or work on my mom's flower beds. Hard to do any of the above in mud. *snicker* Which left me with loads of time to write! And ok, so she wasn't that amused at my alternative form of productivity... but I'm so far behind my personal schedule that her personal little temper tantrums can just suck it up.

~ * ~

**Part Eleven**

The short journey to the Headmistress' private quarters was made in silence, each witch mindful of prying eyes from students and portraits alike. If Hermione had expected the Head of Hogwarts to live near her tower office, she would've been disappointed -- apparently all staff members, excluding those who oversaw the four Houses, lived on the second floor. A whispered password allowed them entrance, where they waited for the portrait wall to seal tight before speaking.

"Please, Hermione, do have a seat. Would you care for something to drink?" Minerva was a generous hostess even at the worst of times, but with no immediate threats she exuded sufficient warmth to make her student quite at ease. "I suspect that our chat might make for thirsty work. Name your poison, my dear, and I'll see what I can find."

The Head Girl watched her mentor shuffle through a tall cabinet in one corner of the comfortable sitting room. Glasses clinked as ice was added, then a very nice crystal decanter was opened to pour a fair amount of amber liquid into the first tumbler. "You are of legal age now, Hermione. If you choose to imbibe with me, no harm can come from it."

"I-I'm sorry, Minerva... it's just that I'm not much of a drinker. If you have any butterbeer, or maybe some mead?" Hermione felt completely out of her depth. Drinking alcohol with the Headmistress?! She fell gracelessly onto the sofa and waited for the older woman to join her.

"Ah, I remember the first time someone gave me strong drink. I was a bit younger than you, actually, but my father felt it a fine joke on my mother at the time. Of course, she made him clean up the mess the next morning." Topping off her glass once more, she stoppered the decanter and brought her tumbler and Hermione's requested mug of mead. "There is no secret to consuming hard liquor, dear girl. It simply takes time and practice for your body to adjust. Numbed nerve endings, strengthened stomach, and no care for one's liver." 

Hermione sipped at her drink, pleased that it had a firm honey flavor. "I sincerely doubt that we are here to discuss the merits of abusing one's body, Minerva."

A soft snort. "Quite right." She took another short pull of her brandy. "Am I mistaken in my understanding of what my Potions Master and my most troublesome Gryffindor are getting up to right now?" she asked, her eyes piercingly direct.

"Very subtle," Hermione teased. "And yes, I believe you are correct. Although... perhaps they won't go all that far, not so soon." She twisted a curl around one finger, bringing it up to brush her lips as she considered the possibilities. "With Harry's track record -- and no, he's never outright told me, but I haven't been his best friend this long without learning a bit about the boy -- anyways, it might take them weeks, months even, to actually indulge in penetrative intercourse."

Minerva's full-bodied laughter brought the younger woman out of her thoughts. "Well if that isn't the most clinical way of saying it! Hermione, when two (or more) people choose to pleasure one another, it can be called many different things, but _penetrative intercourse_ is a term usually reserved for physicians and members of clergy."

Lips pursed, Hermione's nose tilted up in a sniff. Then she chose the most mature route and stuck out her tongue at the catty old woman. Another round of jolly laughter greeted her actions, and she felt a smile threaten her disapproving glare.

"Oh alright, so they aren't going to shag anytime in the near future. I don't think." The mental image she received from having voiced those words sent a delicious shiver down her back. _Not without me, I hope!_ A wrinkled hand closed over her tightly clasped fist, forcing Hermione to glance up.

"Why don't you tell me, woman to woman, what precisely is going on in my school, hmm?"

~ * ~

He could easily lose himself. He _wanted_ to do just that! But there was something niggling at the back of his mind, reminding him that there were things to be said, questions unanswered. Surely, though, he could take just a few more minutes of this heavenly torment...

A deep moan broke through the heights of his pleasure, forcing him to recall the person he was kissing so passionately. His name on those luscious lips, gasped out, "Severus." Before he could object, a warm hand wiggled its way between their tightly pressed bodies, cupping him through layers of wool and cotton. _The only polite thing to do would be reciprocate._

"Oh gods, S'v'russs," Harry's voice cracked on a sob. The intensity of another's touch had never felt so good, so very _right_ as this. He pushed into the masterful touch eagerly, only knowing that he needed this, needed to be connected to this man, right now.

Severus wanted nothing more than to strip them both and pounce on this lovely little incubus. And yet, something stopped him. It hadn't been that long since the teen's last flashback on the horrors inflicted upon him by those hateful Muggles; there was no way he wanted to bring back such terrifying memories. _There are other methods of satisfaction to be had, however,_ he thought with a smirk.

Grasping Harry's hip with one hand, he quickly unfastened their trousers and shifted smalls out of the way. The first skin-on-skin contact made him groan loudly enough to wrench away from the teen's mouth. Just as well, he wanted to see the expression on Harry's face when he wrapped his hand around both erections. _I suppose there are more benefits to having long fingers than dexterity in potions making._ Green eyes filled with emotion met his, and Severus allowed his hand to slowly squeeze.

Harry's head fell back, the corded tendons of his neck straining with tension. One stroke, two strokes, and he regained the tiny bit of balance necessary to bring his head upright. His left arm wrapped around Severus' shoulders in both embrace and insurance that he wouldn't turn away. After a steady rhythm was achieved, he added his right hand to the mix, smearing their lubricating fluids as he swiped across his lover's _Severus Snape is my lover_ foreskin. The older man shuddered under the additional stimulation, his hips thrusting automatically into Harry's -- to which he heartily approved. He returned the pressure and added a swivel, causing both men to moan happily.

He didn't want to release Harry's prick just yet, nor his own, but the insightful young wizard had added a new flavor to their encounter that sent deeper cravings through his groin. His eyes opened, not that he remembered closing them, and sought out a flat surface. Only six feet away was the nearest wall... surely they could make it that far! He wrapped both arms around Harry's waist and kissed him soundly, lifting away from those so-sweet lips to say, "Wall behind you, watch your step."

Hearing the loquacious Professor Snape reduced to fragmented sentences was almost too much for his overloaded brain to handle. He grunted his understanding, then used both hands to hold onto the man's shoulders. That this also permitted him more stable access to the smooth skin of Severus' neck was a pleasant side effect, and one he took full advantage of.

A hard surface behind his back pushed Harry's teeth into the tender flesh just below his lover's ear, nearly drawing blood. Terrified that he had caused damage, his head jerked back... only to meet the unfocused stare of one extremely aroused wizard. His lust-fogged mind took a moment to catch up with the present facts before Harry grinned wickedly and attacked that same section of skin, sucking and chewing to his heart's content.

"Audacious little minx!" Severus growled into wild tufts of hair. "Like playing with fire, do you? Then let's see what you think about this." Moving his pelvis in a slow figure eight, he ground their leaking cocks together several times in a row, then boosted the torture by sliding both hands up Harry's shirt. Slender fingers plucking and pinching the teen's nipples, he nosed aside the lush black hair to reach the lad's ear. Harry's entire body spasmed in excited shock, and he reflexively bit deeper into Severus' neck.

Throwing his head back in ecstasy, Severus let his body move as it wished. His fingers released their tiny targets and headed south to grasp a double handful of sinfully firm arse, dragging a harsh cry from his lover. 

"Fuck, gonna come!" Harry's words were muffled by his mouthful of flesh, the vibrations causing goose pimples to rise beneath his tongue. He lifted his head long enough to beg, "Talk to me, Severus. Wanna hear you, make this real."

Such a simple request, one he could easily fulfill. "You're so hard for me, Harry. Your gorgeous prick leaking against mine. Someday soon I'm going to taste you, take you into my mouth and suck you deep into my throat." His arousal spiked at his own words, clearly imagining the scene. "Or perhaps you would like to sate your oral fixation by swallowing my cock, hmm? While the lovely Hermione rides you, bouncing up and down, her lovely tits swinging as she finds her release." 

His deviation from the expected script brought a loud moan.

"Imagine how tight she'll be, clenching around your aching cock, Harry. Her sweet juices streaming down between your legs, coating your bollocks, slithering along the crack of your wonderful arse. Would that be enough lubrication, do you think? Could I use Hermione's delicious cream to prepare you enough that I could slip right inside? Just imagine it -- a hot sheath surrounding your prick, while you are filled with me. Her breasts are much more than a handful, Harry. With me behind her, pillaging your arse with slow strokes, I could easily fondle her, pinching and pulling her nipples much like I did yours a short time ago." 

Neither man heard the knock on the door, nor the female voice raised in search of their attention.

"And one might think, from her continuous stream of chatter, that she would be a screamer. Reach between her legs, Harry, and find her little nub. As soon as she screams in climax, she'll squeeze the come right out of your prick, and with your orgasm I shall soon follow."

The voice became more audible, clearly yelling, "Harry!"

The youth in question was so lost in his lover's fantasy that, when his name was cried out, he fell over the cliff into pure euphoria. Severus reveled in every spasm of Harry's climax, each spurt of hot semen bringing him that little bit closer to his own release.

"Severus!" A series of sharp raps.

He closed his mouth against Harry's as orgasm crashed through his body. The presence of their missing third was nearly tangible, both men having imagined her voice.

"If you two don't open this door right now, I'm going to go medieval on your arses!"

Severus' eyebrows lifted in surprise. Harry grumbled at being interrupted from his wonderful afterglow. Only after another slew of knocks on the door did they look at each other with matching expressions of panic.

~ * ~

Without knowing how much she was cleared to tell, Hermione floundered through her mentor's questions. Yes, there seemed to be quite a few unorthodox changes happening with Harry, with Severus, with Hermione, and between the three of them. Yes, she would make every effort to keep the Headmistress posted on new developments. Yes, she would remember to take a hangover potion before going to sleep. Yes Minerva, goodnight and sleep well.

She wouldn't exactly call it an interrogation, but Hermione resented being the one to explain what little she knew about her best friend's... actions, emotional status, belief structure... The list could go on for quite some time, and she just did not have enough facts to formulate a working hypothesis.

On impulse, she detoured away from Gryffindor Tower, making her way back to Harry's new room. Of course, the fact that his portrait refused to let her in made a bad mood downright murderous. And then, as she stood in the dark hallway, alone and ill at ease, she heard them. Two moans of passion. Coming from within that scoundrel's chambers. 

Without _her_!

_To hell with being subtle. How dare they start something before I got here! They both need time to get comfortable with one another, of course, but that doesn't mean I can't_ watch _them._ She threw a considerable portion of her strength into pounding on Harry's door. The longer it took, the darker her mood became. Not to mention how tender her knuckles were.

She was so irate that she almost forgot to cast a silencing charm at either end of the rarely used hall before: 

"Harry James Potter! Severus Tobias Snape! You have exactly one minute to open this door and let me in, before I hex you both into next year. I will _not_ be ignored!"

~ * ~

Harry looked at Severus. Severus looked at Harry. Both men flinched as the young witch began making threats.

"Suppose we should open the door?"

"It might save us from a rather gruesome death."

"Right. Clean up first, or spend that half minute actually getting to the door?"

"You bring her inside. I'll cast the charms."

They winced at a particularly painful-sounding invective echoed through the portrait entrance.

"Best be quick about it then."

Harry raced toward Hestia's frame, hissing for her to allow his friend inside. Before he managed to actually open the door, Severus had spelled them clean and freshened the air of its pleasantly musky aroma. 

It is a long-standing rule that, when one is in a hurry, mistakes are often made. 

A bushy-haired whirlwind stormed into the room, nearly knocking Harry down in the process. She rounded on him, and pointed sharply at the nearest sofa. "You, sit." Then turned on her professor and did the same. "You too. We need to have a little chat."

One of the most fundamental beliefs in the magical world was that Harry Potter, the highly worshiped Boy-Who-Lived, was the most powerful wizard alive. Also in the top ten was Severus Snape -- both loved and hated by various factions, feared by a resounding percentage. A casual onlooker to their plight would immediately assume that these two men were held in thrall, under some sort of Imperius-based curse, by a slip of a witch. They wouldn't be far from the truth.

Feeling the angry stare of his friend, Harry's eyes begged for mercy. "Hermione..." he whined

"Not another word, Mister."

"I feel it is important to-" Severus tried to say something, anything, to absolve them of this woman's wrath.

With a quick swipe of her hand, Hermione cut him off as well. "When we were all here earlier, I knew the two of you needed to talk. _Talk_ being the operative word." She spread a thick layer of displeasure on the occupants of the sofa. "Harry, you were supposed to explain about the dreams you've been having. Severus, you were to listen and think over what could happen between the three of us." Her scowl deepened. "But no, you're both so... so... _**male**_ about it, you have to jump right into the sexual aspects without considering that there was someone missing." Her final words trailed off into sadness, then she hammered the last nail in their coffin. "Did you even think about me?"

Silence, complete and foreboding. Neither man knew what to say to dig themselves out of an early grave. 

After the dressing down he'd received, Harry couldn't even think beyond how horrible he felt about leaving his Mia out of the equation. A glance in Severus' direction showed much the same regrets from the older wizard. But she had been his best friend for so long... He might not have the words to adequately express himself, but he could do one thing to make her feel better.

Slowly, Harry edged off the sofa and raised his hands toward the quietly sobbing woman. More out of habit than forgiveness, Hermione leapt into his arms and burrowed in, wetting his shirt with her tears. Over his shoulder, Harry motioned for their third to join the embrace, thinking loudly at him: _Come on, Severus. She needs this. Come join us, make her feel welcomed._ He hadn't been sure it would work, but either that or his pleading expression drew Severus to them.

His feet moved of their own accord as Harry beckoned to him. For a moment, it almost seemed as if the younger man was speaking directly into his mind. Such longing and need was a compelling force, one he'd never experienced solely for himself. Severus wrapped his arms around them, adding his solid presence and whispering, "We're so sorry, Hermione. We didn't mean you any harm."

"Supposed to take things slowly, that's what we said, I know it... but there's this pull and it's near impossible to resist. Makes me want to lock you both inside these rooms and never let you out again." Harry buried his face in her hair, nuzzling in right next to her ear. "I've never felt like this toward anyone, you know that. Remember the farce of a date I had with Cho back in fifth year? Or worse, that thing with Ginny." He shuddered dramatically. "This is all so new and different, and yeah, kinda scary too. And it hit like a herd of hippogryffs, just all of the sudden, and I _want_ it! Want you both so much. But not if it's gonna cause problems for us. Can't ever lose your friendship, 'Mione."

Much later, after they had each calmed down, no one could say who started the more intimate touches. A light caress across her throat. The back of a hand brushing against her breast. Hips moving just so along her pelvis. Someone moaned, someone else kissed, nobody complained.

They moved back to the sofa en masse, like a six-legged beast lumbering into its den on three legs, all clumsy fumbling and near-misses but determined to find their target. 

Severus dropped to his knees, leaving Harry to hold their witch upright. His hands mapped the outline of her body; every dip and curve, each swell of womanly flesh. This was no skinny modern figure -- Hermione had grown into a fine young woman, with generous breasts and full hips, thighs that could take considerable force, and a soft belly that he yearned to lay his head upon. 

Still muttering gentle words of apology, Harry trailed his lips across her jawline, landing just below her right ear. He nibbled the tender lobe as his fingers sought and found the buttons of her outer robe. When she gasped at it being removed, he locked their lips together, stealing her breath and what little sense she had left. The fastenings of her dark blue casual robe came apart as easily, but by that time she no longer cared. 

Hermione stood on shaky legs, undressed save for her panties and bra and stockings. Through the fog of passion induced by these two persistent men, she hardly cared that her body was on display for their hungry gazes. One set of hands smoothed over her tense shoulders, around her back, then diverted to cup her breasts and tease the hardened nipples. A second set stroked across her buttocks and down each leg, removing the nude stockings. She was being swept away by their careful study of her body... but hell could've frozen over before she would ask them to stop.

Someone urged her onto the sofa, helping her get settle. Her arse hung off the edge, but a couple of fluffy pillows placed behind her back removed the possibility of discomfort. Firm lips traced a meandering line along her shoulders, up her neck, and finally captured the tiny moans that threatened to escape. _This is nothing like those earlier kisses with Harry_ , an ever-observant portion of her brain supplied. Opening her eyes, she nearly fell off her perch. Severus was the one kissing her so tenderly! _At least that solves the question of my full involvement_

Lips pleasantly puffy, her eyes slid halfway closed as she watched a silent exchange pass between her wizards. Only a moment later found Severus kneeling between her legs, with Harry to one side watching every move the older man made. _A lesson in erotica, with me the test subject. Oh Merlin, don't let me wake up from this dream!_

"Mr. Potter, I expect your full attention." The voice that was normally reserved for terrifying potions students was instead a deep, smokey purr. "The most important thing to remember about a woman's body is that they have a single primary erogenous zone." Long fingers played across her spread thighs, drawing a shiver from the nearly naked witch. "Can you tell me where that might be located, Mr. Potter?"

Harry's eyes blazed with fresh arousal. It was one thing to acknowledge his second oldest friend as a functioning female, but entirely another to see her quivering with desire. In only her undies. He was so far gone that it took hearing his own name to bring him back to reality. "Uh no, sorry... was that in last week's reading, Professor?"

Severus smirked wickedly. The reactions from both teens were most satisfying. "Not as such," he answered. "I would suggest that you take notes. There will be an exam at the end of today's lesson."

Nodding his head with more enthusiasm than it probably warranted, Harry watched in rapt focus as their 'teacher' demonstrated the fine art of pleasing a woman. For as much unwanted practice as he had in touching men, he was completely adrift with the fairer sex. 

"The main erogenous zone on a woman's body is her _skin_ , Mr. Potter. Of course there are several locations which will bring direct responses; however, it is generally viewed as discourteous to -- I deplore the phrase -- jump in headfirst." Still lightly touching her legs, Severus leaned forward until his face was within inches of her knickers. "A demonstration is in order, I believe." 

And with that, he proceeded to blow Hermione's mind. Harry's too, from the looks of things.

~ * ~

Safely tucked into her favorite flannel nightgown, Minerva sipped on her special blend of bedtime tea. Unlike the Dreamless Sleep potion, this tea was far from addictive, tasted much better, and allowed her body to ease into a restful slumber without side effects. The book on uses of blood in Healing magicks unopened on her lap, she smiled in the general direction of Harry's quarters.

It had taken far less encouragement than she'd anticipated to get Hermione moving back to join the boys. 

Lips curled into a very self-satisfied smirk, she listened with half an ear to the castle's late night reports. All clear in the dorms, other than one incident of a mistimed curse up in Ravenclaw. Poppy had the poor child in bed and all but healed already, so no worries there. Hagrid had checked in as well; the grounds were secure and all livestock locked away. 

With no last minute emergency, she asked for a brief hint as to what was transpiring in Potter's suite. Regardless of how short the synopsis, Minerva felt her cheeks flame and her heart race.

_Well! They certainly are moving things right along, aren't they? Oh dear, I do hope Hermione remembers her charms..._

**_To Be Continued..._ **


End file.
